Third Time's a Charm
by steph7of7
Summary: Snape is saved by McGonagall, then he's saved by everyone else. He may even do a little saving of his own along the way, but that's hardly his fault.
1. Chapter 1

NOTES:

I wrote this as an alternate ending to "Second Time Around," because after Murph read that story, she gently reminded me (with or without the aid of a loaded gun AND a baseball bat) that that's not what fanfiction is _for_.

She insisted that I inform you all that this story can be a stand-alone, and you don't have to read Second Time Around. That's not how I think of it, but frankly, after I told her I was killing Snape, she stopped reading Second Time Around and focused entirely on this story, and I guess it still made sense to her.

She was also kind enough to help me with the plot on several occasions. Like when I complained that what Snape needed was Hufflepuff friends, she said-with zero sympathy, btw-"I'm sure you can find a Hufflepuff friend." Or when I got too far inside Snape's head, and was all sad that he sabotaged every relationship he ever had a chance at, I complained to her that Snape can't have nice things. She said, "But everyone knows this about him, and they won't give up just because he's acting the way he always has." Except for the one time when she said, "Minerva will kick his ASS for that."

So, obviously, this is for her.

* * *

When he came to, Minerva was slapping his face. "Severus!" she said. "Severus, is this Blood-Replenishing Potion?"

He grunted. He couldn't see a thing.

"I found this vial in your pocket, you insufferable man," she said loudly, as if she needed to shout for him to hear her. Maybe she did. "I hope it's not poison!" Then she muttered, "Although that might serve you right." Something was pressed to his lips, but he couldn't muster a reaction.

Then he heard an incantation that was low and musical. It was familiar to him, and it soothed him.

"I'm giving you another vial of this potion, Severus!"

He closed his lips tight; he refused to help her save him. Dying was his only blessing in this life, and she wasn't going to take it from him.

But he was still too weak to fight her. She dug her fingers into his cheeks to force his mouth open and poured another potion down his throat. He heard the musical sounds again.

"Hey," he whispered. He recognized the incantation. It was his own Healing Charm, the one he invented to counter Sectumsempra.

"Severus, how many times is it safe to use that charm? I've used it four times, and it looks like one more might get it. Is that safe?"

"How," he whispered. He'd never told anyone that charm.

"I've used just about every potion in your pockets, but there's one left. I think it's just a general healing potion. It's probably not as good as the others you had, but it can't do any harm." She dug her fingers into his cheeks again to force open his mouth, but he kept his jaw clenched tight.

Damn it, even the fact that he could do that much showed that she'd already won. He gave up and let her force-feed him another potion.

She began the incantation again. She sang it in perfect pitch, with the perfect magical intent. He fumbled his fingers over his own neck, and felt scar tissue and blood, but no open wounds.

"How," he croaked quietly, barely above a whisper, "did you learn that?"

"You showed me, remember?"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. When you showed me the time when Potter cursed Mr. Malfoy."

He looked at her blankly.

"When you healed Mr. Malfoy in the bathroom? You showed me in the Pensieve."

"But," he grunted, "that spell takes intent."

"Yes, Severus, you showed me in the Pensieve."

He'd let it rest if she wasn't being so insufferably vague. "But you can't just copy the motions and the words. You have to _feel_ it correctly."

"Yes, you showed me in the Pensieve," she repeated. She frowned at him, like he might have lost some brain function.

"Wait," he finally said. "Can a Pensieve _do_ that?"

"Yes, of course!" she said. Then, "...You didn't know?"

"No, I didn't know." He'd tried to sound irritable and scornful, but even to his ears, it just sounded tired. "How did _you_ know?"

"That's how Dumbledore tried to teach me Occlumency, but even with all that, I couldn't-" She stopped abruptly. "Wait," she said. "How did you teach Occlumency to Potter?"

He groaned. "This answers so many of my questions."

"Well, I still have a few more."

But at that moment, the Dark Lord's voice rang out as if he were inside the Shrieking Shack with them; as if he were inside their own heads.

"HARRY POTTER IS DEAD," it said. Something clenched in Severus's chest and his ears started ringing so that the next few things the Dark Lord said were blocked out. "WE BRING YOU HIS BODY AS PROOF THAT YOUR HERO IS GONE."

Minerva looked stricken, but he had tears running down his face-down into his ears, as he was still flat on his back. Thankfully, she didn't comment on it, but helped prop him up a bit and conjured a handkerchief to dab his face. He couldn't stop crying. He hoped it was because he was weak from nearly dying, but he wasn't sure of it.

"I have to go now," she said. "I'll come back for you later, if...if I can." _If she lived._

And then he was alone in the room he was supposed to die in. The boy he'd lived to protect was dead; everyone he'd ever cared about-if even briefly-if even for a moment-was caught up in either side of the battle that would now be fought.

And he was alive, but could barely move. He tried to shift over, as he wasn't exactly comfortable sitting in a pool of his own congealing blood, but only managed to fall on his side. Luckily, Minerva seemed to have transfigured a pillow for him, and his head landed on it.

He waited.

Occasionally, he could hear distant shouts. It was getting lighter inside the room; dawn would soon break if it hadn't already.

And suddenly, he felt the strangest sensation in his arm: he felt nothing. In one moment, he realized that his arm had been burning the moment before-indeed that his arm had been burning for years before. The pain had become nothing more than background noise.

But now-nothing. The Mark was gone. The Dark Lord was dead. Harry Potter's death had been successful. Severus started crying again.

He didn't know how long he'd been alone when he heard someone coming into the shack. He tried to wipe his tears away-tried to grab his wand-anything-but he couldn't get his arms to work right. He couldn't even roll over to face the door.

"Holy Jeez!" It was Pomona.

"I told you it was bad." That was Minerva. "Help me get him-"

"-Let's clean some of this up first, or we'll slip. Merlin, Minerva, he looks terrible."

"He's still awake," he croaked.

"Severus, you stubborn bastard," Pomona said. "I'd scold you for never telling us anything and not asking for our help, but we haven't got time for it now."

She cast several Cleaning Charms in his general direction, and the floor was suddenly much more comfortable than it had been. He groaned in relief.

"Can we use magic to move him?" she asked.

"I think it's best if we don't. Those wounds in his neck are delicate."

"Move him where?" he asked, with his face still mainly buried in the pillow.

Minerva said, "To the castle, you disagreeable man."

He finally did manage to move an arm. He tried to grab hold of one of them, but they must not have been standing close enough. His arm swung through the empty air and fell behind him. "No," he said.

Pomona said, "Oh, but we didn't tell you-you must not know! Harry killed You-Know-Who! It's over-it's safe!"

Severus's heart skipped a few beats. He wasn't sure he'd heard that right.

Minerva snorted. "I think he's probably more worried about his reception."

"Harry told everyone about how Dumbledore asked you to kill him, Severus." Pomona didn't seem to notice what this did to his heart-it stopped momentarily, then slammed against his chest. She continued, "He said that you've been working against You-Know-Who-"

"Severus!" Minerva said in some alarm. "Are you all right?"

He couldn't answer, and he realized it was because his throat was busy making a horrible keening noise. Someone touched his shoulder gently. "Can I get you something?" Minerva asked.

He tried to shake his head, but wasn't sure he did. "Harry," he rasped. "He's not-" But he couldn't even say it.

Minerva's voice was thick when she said, "No, Severus, Harry's alive."

* * *

Minerva and Pomona managed to take him up to the castle on a stretcher. Blessedly, no one seemed to notice another body being taken to the hospital wing. When he was deposited gently on a bed, Poppy was quick with a sleeping potion.

It was afternoon when voices woke him.

"-believe he survived it," someone said.

"A lot of that going around these days," someone else replied.

"Severus," Minerva said. "Are you awake?" She shook his shoulder.

He grunted. "No," he said.

"Severus, the castle still recognizes you as headmaster, and there are things that need doing."

He wrinkled his face and opened his eyes. He moved his arm experimentally, finding that it worked. Relieved, he rubbed his brow. "How do you know I'm still headmaster?"

"Your portrait," Filius said. "It hasn't appeared yet."

He groaned. "I resign."

"Resignation accepted," Pomona said. "Next on the agenda, we need an interim headmaster until the Board of Governors can reconvene. I nominate Severus Snape."

"Seconded," Filius said.

"Third," Horace said.

"Motion passed," Minerva said. Severus groaned again, and she ignored it. "Next up, the castle is not in danger of collapsing, but the wards have been badly compromised. And we will most likely be playing host to several strays over the next few days."

"Strays, Minerva?" Pomona said.

Minerva frowned at her. "Former students, we'll say."

"Better."

"Wait," Severus said. He could barely hear their conversation over the sound of his own thoughts. They could choose anyone-why would they pick him as headmaster? Why were they even tolerating his presence? Could they remember nothing of the last year? Trying to consolidate these questions as best he could, he asked, "Why?"

"Well," Pomona said, "I imagine they're unwilling to leave just yet."

"No-why do you want me headmaster?" It wasn't the most articulate thing he'd ever said, but it conveyed the point. He looked at Filius, because he couldn't look at Pomona or Minerva, but he wasn't such a coward that he had to look at Horace.

Filius shrugged. "It makes sense," he said. "We could, of course, choose in a more formal way." He looked around at his colleagues and said, "One, two, three-Not it."

"Not it," Minerva and Pomona chorused, just as Horace said, "Oh, ho, ho, _not it_."

There was a pause, and Severus said, "Not it."

"Too late," Minerva said cheerfully-and a little sadistically, if Severus wasn't mistaken.

Fine. That was just fine. Then they got what they got; he was going to do this his way. And the quicker they got shit done, the quicker this "meeting" would be over and Severus could go back to sleep.

"So, castle security, then," Minerva prompted.

"Is anyone standing guard at the main gates?" Severus asked.

"Hagrid."

He grunted. That was actually not a terrible thing. "Are all the ...former students going to sleep here tonight?"

"Some of them, I imagine."

"Ask them and get a count. Pomona, you take care of that. If people aren't staying, they need to be gone by..."

"Ten o'clock ought to be reasonable-"

"Yes, ten o'clock. After they leave, ward the boundaries against any visitors until dawn. Are there aurors present?"

"Yes, several."

"Work out a patrol schedule for the night with them. Did any Death Eaters escape?"

"A fair few, but they were all seen fleeing the grounds."

"Are the anti-Apparition wards still in place?"

"No."

"Fuck," Severus said. Horace gasped, but he'd voted for Severus to be headmaster, so he'd have to get used to the language. "How many people are required to reset them?"

The Heads looked at each other. Minerva said, "The four of us can do a rudimentary one tonight, but a more permanent solution would take..."

"Six or seven?" Pomona guessed.

"Eight, I think-if we want to do it properly," Filius said.

"Make it your priority to set up a temporary one now, before you do anything else. Filius, work out the details for how to set up a permanent ward and keep us posted."

They nodded, and Minerva spoke. "Next on the agenda-it may be too early to think about this, but what shall we do about O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams this year?"

They were silent. "Cancel them," Filius finally said.

"We can't test at Hogwarts, in any case," Horace said.

"Do you think any students could even manage their exams?" Severus asked.

They looked at each other uncomfortably. Filius finally spoke. "I admit that I largely forwent my usual curriculum in favor of Healing and Protection Charms."

"Oh, thank Merlin it wasn't just me," Pomona said. "I don't think I taught a single plant that wasn't used for the same thing."

Minerva nodded. "Unless my students did independent study, they won't be able to pass any transfiguration tests. Horace?"

"I...admit that a few of the potions I taught this year were non-standard."

There was another silence, longer this time.

"We can give students the option to take their tests and advance a year," Severus said. "Otherwise..." he sighed. "Let's just make next year a do-over for everyone." And to his infinite shame, he started fucking _crying_ again.

Minerva patted his shoulder awkwardly; Filius and Horace looked away. Pomona conjured a handkerchief and handed it over. "It's reasonable," she said. "We'll just have a large class of first-years next year."

Severus swallowed hard and forced himself to speak in a level voice, even if he couldn't quite get his eyes to stop leaking. He said, "I don't intend to act as headmaster for any longer than I have to. Please accept my permanent resignation by the end of the month."

"Give it two months," Pomona said. Minerva shot her a look that Severus couldn't interpret. "Until the end of June," Pomona clarified, and nodded at Minerva.

* * *

Later in the evening, Harry Potter made an appearance, as Severus suspected he would. He looked scruffy and underfed.

"Snape," he said.

"Potter." Severus hoped against hope that the conversation would end there.

For his part, Potter looked extremely uncomfortable. "Look, I just want to say thank you, and sorry."

Severus snorted. "Neither apology nor gratitude is appropriate. We both had our parts to play. We played them."

Potter looked at him for a long while. "So, that's it?" he said.

"I certainly hope so," Severus said.

Potter looked like he'd been struck; he turned and walked out the doors of the hospital wing, and Severus barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before the boy stormed right back in the doors.

"No," he said fiercely. "You're not taking this from me. Thank you for protecting me. I'm sorry for being a dick about it. Maybe it was just your part to play, but you played it well. And for me, it wasn't a part I played, it was my fucking _life_ and it means something to me that you fought for it." He huffed for a few moments, as if waiting for Severus to respond.

So he did. "If that's all, Potter?"

The boy crumpled. "Fuck you, Snape," he said, managing to sound sad as he did so. Then he left.

Severus was left wondering if Potter knew how to use the Pensieve as Minerva did-if Potter had not only viewed his memories, but known his _intent_ , as well.

That was an unnerving thought. He'd been dying when he surrendered the memories; he hadn't been overly scrupulous in their selection. Besides, he never considered that the boy might learn of his intentions toward his mother.

* * *

He left the hospital wing early the next morning, and was surprised to find Pomona walking down the corridor towards him. "Severus! There you are. I thought you might like to tour the grounds."

He grunted. He'd been nearly dead not twenty-four hours before. He supposed that didn't count for anything, not when he was up and walking today. "I can think of nothing I'd enjoy more," he said in a tone that meant the opposite.

Pomona couldn't be provoked, though, and she grabbed his arm and tucked it under hers. It was awkward as she was quite a bit shorter than him, but he found that he didn't mind. They had to sidestep much rubble and disquieting stains in the corridor.

"How many people died?" he asked.

Pomona shrugged. "I find that the numbers don't matter. If only one person died, and you loved that person, then you don't care how many people were saved. If that person lived, you don't care if a hundred others died."

Severus thought about that. "Did Draco Malfoy live?"

She nodded. "Yes. Actually, most of Slytherin House-the current students, anyway-came out quite well. They seemed to have fought with their heads. The exception is Vincent Crabbe."

"Ah," he said. It wasn't entirely unexpected, and Crabbe had never been one of his favorites. He thought he might understand what she was talking about-one dead versus one hundred dead. He was glad that Draco had lived. He hadn't seen the boy yet, but that didn't surprise Severus-the boy had been extremely subdued the last year, and was probably still processing Severus's betrayal. Although Severus didn't know which betrayal Draco would feel most keenly.

But there were other students at Hogwarts. "Which Houses were hardest hit?" he asked.

She looked at him. "I think you know the answer to that, Severus."

She looked away and kept walking.

Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, of course.

They walked in silence until they reached the main doors. When they stepped through and looked outside, Severus stopped in his tracks.

The castle grounds were burnt and cratered. "Shit," he said.

"We have a lot of work to do," she agreed. "Maybe we don't need to walk the grounds, but I want you to see my greenhouses." She led the way.

The greenhouses were destroyed. The plants were burnt and trampled, and liberally sprinkled with broken glass. The pungent smell of burnt herbs permeated the place.

"I know this seems like a low priority, Severus, but the hospital wing used up a year's supply of Burn Salve and Blood Replenishers and Pain Draughts just last night. I'm sure brewing more wouldn't be a problem, but getting the necessary ingredients will be. If Hogwarts is to reopen in the fall, we must restore the greenhouses quickly."

He sighed. He was already worn out from the walk. "I suppose you can't do it on your own."

"Not when I'm needed elsewhere in the castle and grounds. You saw the damage. But I have a solution."

"What is it?" he said, not remotely curious. He wished there was somewhere to sit down.

She sensed his thoughts and conjured a bench for the both of them. "You be in charge of restoring the greenhouses."

He tried to snort, but it sounded like a sigh. "Pomona...I, too, am needed elsewhere."

"You're weak, and you know it. I saw that room where you almost died-I don't care that you're able to stand up today, you're not going to recover from that quickly. Those who are able should restore the castle and grounds. You take care of the greenhouses."

He would be offended, but he knew what the greenhouses meant to her. It was a high compliment that she even suggested it. "Do you really trust me with your greenhouses?" he asked.

She smiled. "I know you hate to be reminded, but I remember you as a student, Severus Snape. Yes, I trust you."

He frowned. "You remember so long ago-don't you remember the last year? I murdered Albus Dumbledore. I condoned the torture of students. I was a Death Eater and a traitor."

Pomona patted his arm and smiled sadly. "I don't know if I can explain this to you, because you and I think so differently. But I'll try: I knew you for years, Severus, and I liked you and trusted you. And then it seemed like I'd been wrong about you all along... And this past year-it's like I've been fighting against myself-forcing myself not to trust you. And now, it turns out that I was _right_ about you all along, and suddenly everything you did makes sense."

He pulled his arm away from her so he could wipe the stray tears that had escaped. His jaw hurt from holding in all the rest. "You are so very Hufflepuff, it's almost a little embarrassing," he said.

She laughed. "If the shoe fits..." she said. "Speaking of House stereotypes, by the way, Minerva is still upset with you."

"I honestly don't think there's ever been a time when Minerva was not a little upset with me."

She laughed again. "That's probably true, but I just want you to know that she'll come around. She's still hurt that you didn't tell her anything-I think she's taking it as a personal betrayal."

He had nothing to say to that, so they sat in silence for a while longer, looking at the ruins. He remembered something from yesterday.

"Wait," he said. "This greenhouse restoring business-is this a ploy, cooked up by you and Minerva to keep me busy?"

"Why Severus, you've found us out," she said.

The problem with Hufflepuffs was that their teasing and their earnestness all came out in the same tone-perhaps because they both came from the same place. It was quite unfamiliar to Severus.

She led him back to his quarters, where he slept most of the day.

* * *

In the evening, he was surprised by a knock on his door, which turned out to be Draco. The boy's face was unreadable. Severus blinked, and Draco asked, "May I come in, sir?"

Severus wordlessly gestured him in and closed the door.

"I don't know if I should curse you or thank you," Draco said. "But Mother and I are leaving the castle, and I thought I should be the one to tell you."

Severus was careful to keep his own expression neutral. "Going back to the Manor, then?"

"Yes-there is much work to be done there."

"How is Lucius?"

Draco's expression flickered for a moment before it dropped back to blank emptiness. "Father will spend some time in Azkaban. His trial date is set for a few weeks from now. But Mother and I will not stand trial." He frowned. "That's largely due to Harry Potter's sworn statements."

Severus nodded and studied Draco. He had failed this boy in every way imaginable, but to apologize was to admit it. Besides, Draco had survived it. "I wish you and your Mother the best of luck, then," he said, and meant it.

They shook hands and Draco said, "Thank you, sir."


	2. Chapter 2

He went to the Great Hall for breakfast in the morning, where the relatively simple fare of scrambled eggs and toast was being served. Minerva was already seated next to the center chair, and he resolutely walked in and sat down beside to her as if it were the done thing. He hadn't sat next to her since he'd murdered Dumbledore. He didn't cry thinking about it, but it was a near thing.

"Pomona says that she told you about her plan," she said.

"Yes, I've been demoted to gardener," he sneered. God, why was he such an arsehole? Though Minerva didn't even seem to notice.

"It may be an easy job compared with rebuilding the castle, but it's not an easy job," she said. "You might find some students to help you."

"I'd like to inspect it a little more closely myself, before I let any of those idiots near it."

"They're not all idiots," she said with a wicked grin. "After all, Longbottom did make an O on his Herbology O.W.L. I'm sure he could help."

He fumbled his fork and glared at her.

She wisely didn't comment further, and he turned to look out at the students. His eyes were drawn to Harry Potter. The boy looked terrible, like he hadn't slept in a week, and hadn't eaten for even longer. He frowned as he pondered this. Potter probably hadn't expected to live.

Severus could sympathize.

"Potter's not doing well," Minerva said, continuing on her mission to obliquely scold Severus for past iniquities.

Severus grunted.

"The Gryffindor portraits tell me that someone has woken up screaming the past two nights, and the Fat Lady has reported being opened by someone invisible shortly afterwards."

He felt a burning curiosity despite himself. He'd never been allowed to talk of Dumbledore's schemes before-he wondered what Minerva knew. "Did Dumbledore ever tell you about the task he'd set Potter?"

She looked at him and shook her head. "Potter would never tell us, either," she said. "He insisted that Albus wanted it kept secret. He wouldn't even tell Remus, when he asked." She poked him in the shoulder. "I assumed you knew all about it, though."

"No, Dumbledore wouldn't ever tell me. Has Potter talked about it since he came back to the castle?"

She thought about it before she answered. "He-he mentioned Horcruxes when he dueled He Who Must Not Be Named."

"Horcruxes," he breathed. More than one Horcrux, then. Severus's knowledge of them was all theoretical, of course, but even that was enough to make him shudder. It all made sense, though. He remembered the locket and the sword, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"How did Potter know your role, Severus?" she asked, so carefully that she must have rehearsed. "When he dueled He Who Must Not Be Named-he knew things that he couldn't have guessed. When did you two talk?"

"We didn't talk. I gave him my memories. I had to tell him-Dumbledore left him a message."

"What message?"

"He-he had to die." And he told her the whole story. It was cathartic, especially when she became so angry at all the right things.

"When the bloody hell did Albus _tell_ you this, Severus?"

He had to think. "There was a Quidditch match in March, and I already knew by then."

"That long? And he didn't give you any hint that Potter might survive?"

"No," he began to say, but remembered Dumbledore telling him, years ago, that surviving and living were different, and dying and living were alike. "Not as such," he amended.

She sniffed. "If he wasn't already dead, I'd like to strangle him myself. I'm sorry for being so unpleasant to you this past year, Severus."

"Don't be."

"But why didn't you tell any of us?"

He scoffed. "You are all terrible actors. Even the Carrows would have suspected something was wrong if any of you acted complicit." He thought about it for a few more moments. "Besides...secrets are...all I've ever known." God _damn_ it, was he crying _again?_ He couldn't live like this.

Minerva, bless her, ignored his tears. "Are you going to get started on the greenhouses today?"

He sniffed and said, "I had planned on it, yes." His voice only wobbled a little bit; perhaps Minerva didn't even hear it.

"Good, good. By the way, Filius has drawn up plans for the new anti-Apparition wards. It will take eight powerful witches and wizards to cast properly. You are far too weak, so besides we four Heads of House, I wondered who you might suggest."

He thought for a moment. "Between you, Pomona, Filius, and Horace-Horace is obviously the weak link."

She sighed deeply. "He is aging and tired, but Filius thinks he could handle it."

"I would suggest using Poppy instead. Shacklebolt. Molly Weasley. Bill Weasley." He stopped.

"Those were my choices as well. Which is why Horace is still on the list."

"Miss Granger," he said.

She looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat it," he said.

"It's only...if we're to use a student, I'd rather choose one with the most intuitive feel for magic, and we both know that's Potter."

"Potter is as weak as I am, Minerva. Look at him." And they did.

Minerva sighed. "Miss Lovegood, then," she said.

"Miss Lovegood's magic is _too_ intuitive. Miss Granger is our best feasible option, and better suited for the job than Horace."

She sighed in resignation. "I'll take it to Filius and see what he says. In the meantime, I think you should talk to Potter."

He was incredulous. "Whatever for?"

"Just...talk to him."

"Am I to be his therapist now?"

"Maybe he is to be yours. You and he have many unresolved issues. I think that Dumbledore left you both with secrets that have been choking you for the past year. Talk to him. Get it out in the open."

When she left the table, the Great Hall was almost empty. Potter, however, was still there, alone at the Gryffindor table. Severus stared at him, thinking. He and Potter each had their own secrets-but Potter also had secrets that belonged to Severus.

That didn't sit well with him.

Coming to a decision, he stood and walked over to the boy. Potter eyed him warily. "Snape," he said.

"I believe you have something of mine, Potter, and I'd like them back."

Potter frowned. "I...don't-"

"My memories, if you please."

"Oh, no sir. I mean, I left them. In the Pensieve. In Dumbledore's office."

He wasn't sure which part of that was most aggravating. "One: it's my office. Two: you left my memories sitting around, unattended, so anyone could see them?"

Potter went red. "Well, one, you were dead, and two, as you say, it was your office. And three, I'm sorry if I was a bit _preoccupied_ at the time." The boy stood up and left the hall.

Well. Severus had done what Minerva had asked.

* * *

When he reached the greenhouses, Severus already felt as if he needed a nap. He had no energy to conjure a bench, so he sat on the ground, well outside the radius of shattered glass.

Pomona and Hagrid had a crew of current and former students working on the grounds. Severus watched them idly for a few moments, as they worked in teams to fill the craters with soil and clear away rubbish. It was very slow going.

Severus turned back to the greenhouses and thought about his own job. If he were to do this, he needed to prioritize. He had to clear the broken glass first, then clear away the ashes of the burnt plants, composting their remains and being mindful of any seeds which may still be salvaged. If there were seeds, they needed to be potted in the appropriate soil and maintained in the proper environment as soon as possible. Any smaller plants or seedlings which may have survived under the shelter of the larger plants would also need to be salvaged.

And then the actual greenhouses needed to be rebuilt.

These thoughts only made him more weary. He stood and decided that he may as well get started on Vanishing the broken glass. " _Evanesco,_ " he said, with a wave of his wand, and was somewhat offended when his spell cleared only a very small area of glass. " _Evanesco,_ " he repeated, and cleared a smaller area than before.

He decided to sit back down before he hurt himself. He again watched the people working on the grounds. He was weak, but perhaps it was excusable. After all, only forty-eight hours before, he'd been as close to dead as a person could be without actually dying.

Well, not counting Harry Potter.

When he went to lunch in the Great Hall, he saw Miss Granger and Ronald Weasley, but no Potter. He stopped by them on his way to the head table. "You are fools to abandon Potter at this time," he told them without greeting.

Granger looked abashed, but Weasley fired up. "Get out of it, Snape. What do you know about anything?"

Severus glared at Weasley, and for once, the boy seemed to interpret his look correctly. After all, Severus knew a great deal about surviving when dying seemed the more proper thing to do. But then Weasley stood so abruptly that Severus took an unconscious step back.

"Ron!" Miss Granger squeaked, as Severus pulled his wand reflexively, but the boy kept his back to Severus, still facing the girl.

"Damn it Hermione, he may be an arsehole, but he's talking sense. I'm going to get him, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

It wasn't until Weasley left the hall that Severus made sense of the boy's pronouns.

Severus felt that he'd far exceeded Minerva's expectations.

* * *

The next morning, as Severus sat on the ground outside the greenhouses and again pondered the immense task he faced, Neville Longbottom approached him.

"Sir?" he said. "Professor Sprout sent me to help you." The boy was respectful but not timid.

Severus snorted. It seemed that Pomona was conspiring with Minerva. "Of course she did," he said.

"So what are you working on now?"

"Clearly I'm sitting here doing nothing. You're a fool if you couldn't work that out on your own."

"Well, I was trying to be polite," Longbottom said, and sat down next to Severus.

Annoyed, Severus told him, "While I've been informed that you are, in fact, quite good at Herbology, the work that needs to be done here will also take a practiced magical hand, Longbottom. You would not be my first choice as helper. In fact, you wouldn't be my tenth choice. You wouldn't be my tenth choice if my first fifty choices were dead."

Longbottom stood up somewhere in the middle of this diatribe, and by the end of it, he'd started to Vanish broken glass. Severus watched, bemused, as the boy methodically Vanished all the broken glass from one entire greenhouse.

It took about half an hour. It was the smallest greenhouse.

It was a delicate process, requiring finesse to magically separate that which was to be Vanished from that which was to be kept. And the boy did it competently, if not expertly.

When he was done, he walked back over to Severus and sat back down with sweat running down his neck.

Severus didn't have anything to say to that.

"Sorry, I hope that was what you wanted to do. I mean, it makes sense as a first step," Longbottom said.

Severus glared off to the side.

"Professor Snape? There's...there's something I should probably tell you." For the first time since he approached Severus, the boy sounded uncertain. "I hope you'll hear me out. Because I finally understood something the other day, and I...well, I don't know where to start."

Merlin. This sounded like nothing Severus wanted to sit here for.

"Professor Dumbledore told me about the prophecy last year."

And suddenly, Severus couldn't have stood to leave if he wanted to. Almost against his will, he glanced at Longbottom, who continued.

"He-he told me that the only reason the prophecy meant Harry was because that's what Voldemort chose to believe, and that if Harry were somehow not able to defeat Voldemort, then Voldemort might fixate on me, and then it would be my job to...to kill him."

Longbottom paused, and Severus's brain helpfully latched on a small detail: he had never heard Longbottom refer to the Dark Lord before. But it didn't surprise him that he used the name.

"It was mad, you know? Hearing all that when I was only sixteen. I could barely look at Harry for months after that-knowing what everyone expected of him, knowing that they might have expected it of me, knowing that they might still."

Something about that moved Severus to confession. "I never heard the prophecy in its entirety," he told the boy.

Longbottom closed his eyes and quoted from memory. "'...and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives...'"

When Longbottom finished his recitation, silence rang out for a few moments.

"The fuck does that even _mean?_ " Severus finally spat.

Longbottom chuckled. "It was spookily vague enough to scare me, anyway."

Severus grunted, and Longbottom continued, "Anyway, when Harry dueled Voldemort the other day, he said something about you...that you'd always loved his mother. And that struck me as odd, and later on it hit me: that's why you always hated me and Harry so much. You blamed both of us for his mother dying. Him, for being the one Voldemort chose, and me, for _not_ being the one he chose."

Given his track record over the last few days, it didn't surprise Severus that he started crying immediately. Longbottom, however, was discombobulated.

"I-I'm sorry to upset you. I've forgiven you-I should mention that-that's why I'm telling you this. That, and I've had enough of holding secrets. Secrets haven't done you many favors over the years, and Harry is still buried under all of his."

Severus responded with a little sob, much to his shame. Most of his crying was of the quiet variety; he hated it when the sobs escaped.

"I'll-I'll go. I'm sorry. If you still want my help, let me know. I-I'd consider it an honor to help you with this." He stood and walked away, but before he'd walked ten yards, he turned back around. "Professor Snape?"

Severus acknowledged him with a small nod.

"I'm sorry for being a dick to you this last year."

Severus swallowed his tears and said-hopefully loud enough-"Don't apologize. Your being a dick helped my cover."

Longbottom grinned and said, "Well then, I'm glad I could help." And he walked away.

After Severus collected himself, he stood up and inspected Longbottom's work. He'd been quite thorough; Severus only found a few small shards of glass remaining. He managed to Vanish those easily and walked to a second greenhouse. He attempted the Vanishing spell again, and while he managed to clear a larger area than he had the day before, it would still take him the rest of the day to clear what Longbottom had managed in a half hour.

* * *

At dinner that night, he informed Pomona of his progress.

"Did Longbottom find you this morning?" she asked.

He grunted and turned to Minerva. "Minerva, people keep referring to a speech Harry made when he dueled the Dark Lord. Would you be so kind as to show me your memory of it?"

"Certainly. After dinner?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Severus," Pomona poked his arm. "That wasn't a terribly smooth change of subject. I take it Mr. Longbottom found you this morning?"

"Yes, thank you, he was very helpful and the time we spent together was healing for both of us."

Again, she couldn't be rattled by his sarcasm. "If you aren't able to work together, be kind enough to send him back to me-I could use his help out on the grounds if you're going to be insufferable about it."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "He was qualified and competent. I was vindictive and spiteful right up until I burst into undignified tears." He sneered. "When he left, he was unfazed by my rancor but disturbed by my infantile display."

She patted his arm. "Well, he's used to the one but not the other," she said.

He snorted. "Pomona, what if I'm losing my mind?"

"Severus, you are not losing your mind. But you have lost yourself. You'll take a while to...find it."

"God _damn_ it," he mumbled, as he wiped his eyes with a napkin.

She had to nerve to laugh at him, but not meanly. "While you're already crying, I might as well tell you something else-it's so good to hear you call me 'Pomona' again. All that 'Professor Sprout' nonsense you'd been sticking to-it felt like a punch in the gut."

He hadn't even noticed the change. He'd been sticking so rigidly to formal titles-he couldn't remember when he'd slipped back to first names.

* * *

Minerva loaned him her memory of Potter's duel with the Dark Lord, and Severus viewed it alone after dinner.

Longbottom and Minerva both had mentioned that Potter was buried under secrets, something that confused Severus greatly. But watching the memory, Severus started to understand. Potter mentioned the prophecy (a passing reference that would have flown by Severus if Longbottom hadn't quoted it to him earlier), as well as Horcruxes (which Severus still knew nothing definitive about) and the Elder Wand (which Severus did know about, as the Dark Lord had mentioned it just before he murdered Severus). But Potter elaborated on none of these topics. Indeed, the only secrets Potter purposely brought out into the open-laid bare for all to see-were Severus's secrets.

No wonder everyone was being so _nice_ to him recently-Potter made him sound like some sort of tragic hero with the heartache of unrequited love.

It was nauseating.

And then Potter had the nerve to counter the Killing Curse with the Disarming Charm. _Again_. Disgusted, Severus left the memory.

* * *

Much later that night, he was woken from a sound sleep by Phineas Nigellus. "Headmaster Snape?" he said. "You have an uninvited visitor. I wanted to turn him away, but the others insisted I come wake you."

Severus asked, "Who is it?"

"Some damn fool Gryffindor, demanding to speak with you."

That was a non-specific description. _Gryffindor_ narrowed the pool, but _damn fool Gryffindor_ was the same set as _Gryffindor._ Despite this, Severus had only one guess for the identity of his visitor. He put on his dressing robe and entered his office.

He opened the door to the spiral stone staircase, and found Harry Potter, of course, standing uncertainly outside. The boy looked so... _sad_. He was gaunt, unshaven, and had dark circles under his eyes.

Severus leaned heavily on the still-open door and addressed the floor. "Potter, what are you doing here," he asked, so wearily that the question mark was inaudible.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Yes, I actually guessed that. And you'll notice that you answered a question I didn't ask. I asked what you were doing _here_. _"_

The boy was quiet, so Severus looked up at him. He looked both determined and uncertain. Severus decided that any statue that would inevitably be made of the boy should have that exact expression carved into its features. It was how Severus always thought of him.

"Neville told me he forgave you," the boy blurted. "He said he'd told you, too. And I just thought I should say that I do too. Forgive you, I mean."

Severus blinked once. Twice. Three times. "I don't recall apologizing for anything," he finally said.

The boy laughed, slightly hysterically. "You are...unbelievably...mean...and, and, and a _git_."

"Potter-"

"No! Don't. _I'll_ apologize, then, for coming." The boy turned to leave.

When he'd reached the bottom of the stone staircase, Severus called after him: "It's called 'Dreamless Sleep,' Potter. Surely you've heard of it?"

"Madam Pomfrey said they're all out. She suggested I try to meditate, or better yet, Occlude." He laughed, with a touch more hysteria now.

"Potter-" he tried again, but the boy had already exited to the corridor.

Out of Dreamless Sleep? Severus could brew a large batch of that in an hour. What was Horace doing? Unless he was out of valerian root, in which case growing more should be the number one priority of the greenhouses.

But the next morning, Severus inspected the Potions Master's stores, and found plenty of valerian root. Horace walked in just as Severus pulled the jar off the shelf.

"Severus! What are you doing down in the Potions Laboratory this morning?"

"The hospital wing is out of Dreamless Sleep. Have you not been informed?"

"Oh, yes, m'boy, but I'm unfortunately out of lavender. I've ordered more, but with the greenhouses out of commission, who knows how long I'll have to-"

"You can use purple moonflower instead of lavender. You just have to cut the dosage-why do I have to tell you this?" Severus angrily hunted down the jar of purple moonflower. As he suspected, there was more than enough of it.

"Oh, but purple moonflower is four times the price of lavender!"

"And the hospital wing is in need of Dreamless Sleep. Brew some this morning and deliver it to Poppy."

"Oh, now don't be angry, Severus. A little economy is never the wrong answer."

"These are the _school stores_ , Horace, for the use of the school," Severus said, and made for the exit before he got really angry. "Be sure to inform Poppy of the proper dosage when you deliver it."

He asked Poppy to notify him when she took delivery of the potion, and she did so by late morning. He told Minerva to make announcements at lunch and dinner that the hospital wing was again stocked with Dreamless Sleep.

In the afternoon, Longbottom showed up to help with the greenhouses. They started clearing glass from a second, larger greenhouse. They were able to finish about half of it-and Severus was able to help, taking many breaks. Thankfully, they had no conversations outside of practical matters.

At dinner, Filius informed him that he was ready to set the anti-Apparition ward on the castle and grounds, and had informed all the witches and wizards involved. They planned to set the ward the following night at dusk. "Miss Granger was a wise choice, Severus," Filius said. "She is far more suited to this level of protective magic than Horace. I don't think we'll have any problems setting the ward, and if all goes according to plan, the protection will last at least another thousand years!"


	3. Chapter 3

It was a few days later when Severus finally saw Harry Potter again. It was during breakfast, and the boy looked better, which reminded Severus that he was angry with the damned fool for telling all of his secrets to a rapt audience. He would have liked to summon the boy to his office, so that he could scold him appropriately, but he had the vague feeling that Minerva would somehow find out and disapprove. Potter saved him the trouble by approaching Severus himself and asking to talk. Severus agreed and walked with the boy to the small room off the Great Hall.

When they arrived, Potter said, "Madam Pomfrey told me that you were the reason she has Dreamless Sleep now. You probably only did it so I would leave you alone, but still. Thanks."

That the boy pretended to earnestness, even now, set Severus off. "Yes," he said silkily. "And I owe you my thanks as well."

Potter looked confused, and a little pleased. In that moment, Severus hated him without reserve.

"Thank you, so much, for telling the entire Wizarding world that I was in love with your mother-indeed, for being so generous as to share all of my secrets with the general public. I couldn't help but notice, however, that you shared none of your own secrets."

Struck dumb, Potter stared at him. Severus, seized with a sudden desire for petty revenge, took advantage of the opportunity to slip inside the boy's mind.

For a moment-one small moment-Severus was with Potter as the latter walked towards the Forbidden Forest alone. The memory was wrapped in sheer desolation, so much so that the chill of nearby dementors barely registered.

But then-something happened.

Once, during a summer when Severus was young, he and Lily walked through a patch of flowers in a park by his house. There were bees-so many bees-and Severus never did find out why-was a beekeeper nearby, or were the bees just swarming? He'd never heard so many bees in his life. He and Lily found themselves in the middle of it, and the buzzing-while not terribly _loud_ -seemed to envelop the entire world. Lily had looked back at him and grinned. Her lips moved as if she were speaking, but the buzzing stole all sound away. Severus had tried to respond, but when he did, the buzzing seemed to be coming from inside of himself; he couldn't hear his own voice. They took a few more steps and the buzzing receded to a faint hum.

Now, inside of Potter's head, Severus was reminded of that all-encompassing buzzing. It was everything-a sound that muffled all other noise-a light that blinded anyone looking-like water crashing down from a waterfall.

He backed out of the boy's head, confused.

The boy looked infinitely sad. "What do you want from me, Snape?"

"Did you-was that-did you Occlude?"

"Yes, I Occluded."

"Where did you learn that? It's not-it wasn't-that's not standard." He sounded like an idiot, but he'd never seen (or heard, or felt) anything quite like that.

The boy sighed, as if he would rather discuss anything else, but would humor Severus. "I could never clear my mind the way you said, and I had to keep myself separate from Voldemort somehow, didn't I? So I did the opposite: I felt everything at once."

"That's-that's not standard," Severus repeated.

"Yeah, that's probably why Occlumency doesn't help me sleep."

"No, that wouldn't do."

"Look, Snape. I'm sorry I told everyone about you and my mum, but I thought you were dead. I never dreamed it would matter. And by the way, that doesn't give you the right to try to dig inside my mind."

The boy left Severus standing alone in the small room, with the morning sun streaming down on the floor.

Potter should have been angry, but had instead sounded sad. Severus wondered if it was a side-effect of the boy's unorthodox methods for Occlumency. Perhaps...of all the feelings Potter had made himself feel...perhaps grief predominated.

Severus shoved it from his mind and went outside to work on the greenhouses.

Severus and Longbottom had worked out a routine where Longbottom did the initial Vanishing and Severus cleaned up the small pieces of glass left behind. This meant that Longbottom used more force and Severus used more finesse, which played to both of their strengths. After another long day of work, they were very nearly done with the first step towards getting the greenhouses in order.

That night, Ronald Weasley showed up in his office. Severus didn't let him in, but this didn't stop Weasley from entering. The boy just said, "Snape," and brushed past him and sat down in a chair in front of the desk. Severus, badly wrong-footed, moved to sit behind his desk and sat down, trying to look in control.

"Mr. Weasley. Can I help you?" he asked dryly.

"Yeah. I'm here about Harry. I wanted-"

"Save your breath, Weasley. I'm not interested in Potter's problems."

To Severus's surprise, Weasley didn't turn red in anger. Instead, he just frowned. "Look, Snape," he said, "I'm actually here as a favor to you. Hermione wanted to come, but I told her I could handle it. But if I don't report back to her, she will come talk to you, and she'll want to talk about _feelings_." The boy made a face, and Severus agreed with the sentiment.

"Anyway," the boy continued, "we have a past, you and Harry have a past, and...I don't know. I'm not interested in any of that anymore. Harry, though, has decided that you two have a lot in common, and he's got it in his head that you're...like a brother, or something. I don't get it, but Hermione can tell you all about it, if you care to hear it-"

"-Certainly not-"

"-but anyway, Harry's not going to give this up. And, obviously, you can keep being a git to him, but I just wanted to tell you that I hope you won't be. Because if you do, you'll both just keep hitting your heads against a wall."

Severus had nothing to say to that, but Weasley looked at him expectantly.

"Tell your Miss Granger that I got the message," he finally said.

"Good, good. Just so that we're clear, though-what message did you get?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Potter. Bull-headed Gryffindor. Brick wall."

"That's the gist of it, yes." The boy rose to leave, and Severus was seized by an urge that he couldn't quite fathom.

"Weasley," he said. "I'm sorry for the loss of your brother."

Weasley looked at him, and now his cheeks did turn splotchy red. "Thank you," he whispered, and left.

* * *

By midmorning the next day, Severus and Longbottom had completely cleared the broken glass. They celebrated by sitting down in the mess of burnt plants and the twisted frame of what had been greenhouse four.

"Now the real work begins," Longbottom said.

Severus looked at the boy-the young man-and wondered how they had come to this.

"Do I have something on my face?" Longbottom asked, and tried to wipe his forehead but only managed to smear ash across it.

"No. I just wondered if you were ready to start with the real work today."

"I'm ready to give it a try, anyway."

So they began. They delineated a place to pile the burnt plants and began to banish the ash there, and-to their surprise-soon found a rather large clump of sage, almost completely unharmed despite the destruction around it. Longbottom touched it reverently. "You know, the castle has been starting to smell bad, lately."

Severus looked at the young man again-more specifically, at the large smear of ash on his forehead-and thought of a potion made from sage, which could be used to clear the stench of death and decay. But how did Longbottom know of it? The potion was simple, but not covered in Potions class, and the young man probably didn't even remember those potions which had been covered.

"Seriously, do I have something on my face?" Longbottom asked again.

"No, you're fine. Why did you mention bad smells?"

"Well, I just thought we could burn sage in the corridors. My gran used to do that, and it helps."

Well, that answered that question. "A potion using sage is far more effective."

Longbottom smirked. "Well, it shouldn't surprise you that I don't know anything about that."

Severus decided something, without quite knowing what or why. He heard himself say, "Trim as many of the leaves as the plant can spare, and meet me in the Potions classroom." He turned and walked to the castle, slightly taken aback at his own behavior.

But the castle _had_ been smelling, no matter how much Argus Filch and the house elves cleaned. And the Freshening Potion would help. And finding the sage had been a boon-the potion worked far better if the sage was fresh-picked. And it was a simple potion, and Longbottom could certainly help with it.

So he went to the Potions classroom and pulled out a large pewter cauldron, and found the stores of buffalo grass and dillweed. He mixed equal amounts of these in a standard oily base and put the cauldron on high heat just as Longbottom walked through the door with his arms full of sage.

"It would be easier to just burn the sage," the young man said, as he dumped the leaves on a student table.

"Nonsense. The potion is nearly done already. Start cutting the leaves into thin strips." Severus found a knife and started to help.

Longbottom seemed unsure of himself when he started chopping, and Severus sighed inwardly. But the young man watched Severus chop his own leaves and had the good sense to mimic him, and soon all the leaves were cut properly. The potion was boiling merrily, and Severus dumped all of the chopped sage into the cauldron.

"I still think it would be easier to just burn the sage."

"That's how a Muggle would do it. Wizards can do it better," Severus sneered. He took the cauldron off the fire and immediately decanted it into a large stone pitcher which he levitated in front of him. "Are you ready?"

"It's done already?"

"I told you it wouldn't take long."

So Severus and Longbottom went to the ground floor of the castle, and Severus carefully poured a measure of the potion all the way down the entrance hall and main corridor.

"What now?" Longbottom asked.

"Now, we burn it," Severus answered, and, drawing his wand, cast _Incendio_.

The potion caught immediately and flared-all of it, almost at the same time-nearly reaching the ceiling, before going out just as quickly.

Longbottom roared with laughter. "You're right, Snape. Wizards _can_ do it better."

They spent the afternoon repeating the process throughout all the main corridors. They took turns casting _Incendio_.

When Severus finally returned to his rooms, he caught sight of himself in a mirror. He had a large smear of ash across one cheek.

* * *

Friday evening, just after dinner, Potter showed up at the door to Severus's private quarters. Irritated, Severus asked the boy how he knew where to find him.

"I followed the map," the boy said vaguely. "Can I come in?"

"Will things be less unpleasant if you do?"

"Probably for you. I don't care either way."

Severus snorted. "I doubt that," he said, but let Potter in anyway. He did not invite him to sit down, but Potter seemed fine standing.

"Look," the boy said, "you...you're following a pattern, and I just want to get to the bottom of it. You help me when my back is turned, but you're a complete berk to my face. So...I'm here to talk to the man who helps me."

"It's merely a case of 'absence makes the heart grow fonder,' Potter."

"But-you-you-everything you do helps me. Thanks, by the way, for getting rid of that smell."

Severus was confused, but tried not to let it show. "I didn't do that for you, I assure you."

But this only seemed to fuel Potter's fire. "But of course you say that about everything! But what am I supposed to think? One day I complain to Neville that the smells in the hall are making me sick, and the next day you brew a potion that makes the castle smell brand-new! I _know_ you didn't do it just for me, but I _know_ that a part of it _was_ for me, and you won't even let me thank you!"

"Potter, listen to me: I did not brew that potion for you."

"You know what? Call me Harry."

"I had no idea the smell was even bothering you-"

"Bullshit, as if Neville didn't even mention it!"

"-I can't say I would have brewed the potion any faster or slower had I known-"

"-Just like the Dreamless Sleep, then?"

"-and quite frankly, you're making me regret I've ever even heard of the Freshening Potion."

"Why can't you just say 'You're welcome,' like any normal human being?"

The boy was insufferable. Why did Severus keep suffering him? "Why must you keep bothering me, Potter?"

"Harry-I told you, it's Harry."

"Which brings me back to my point: why do you insist on coming here, _Potter?_ "

For a few moments, he thought the young man could actually be provoked into punching him-an honest Muggle punch. It would be a mistake, but a typically Gryffindor one.

But instead, the boy reached up with both hands, grabbed Severus by the sides of his face, and kissed him.

Severus was so shocked that nothing else registered.

And then Potter broke the kiss, let go of his face and took a few steps back. "Huh," he said.

Severus realized that his arms were still by his sides-he hadn't even moved. He looked at Potter and counted the number of ways that the kiss was just _wrong_. Severus was Potter's former teacher. He was old enough to be Potter's father. He'd hated Potter's father, and the feeling was reciprocated. He'd hated Potter himself, and the feeling was reciprocated. He had been in love with Potter's mother (and the feeling wasn't reciprocated). And on top of all of that entangled history, Potter was an emotional wreck at the moment.

Meanwhile, the boy just looked confused.

Severus finally spoke. "What...was that?"

"I'm sorry," Potter-Harry-(perhaps Severus should start calling him Harry, if that's what it took)-Harry said. "I guess Hermione was finally wrong about something."

"I'm sorry...Hermione?"

"Yeah, sorry, it was a theory of hers. She said that maybe the reason we can't stand each other is because there's great sexual chemistry-" Harry blushed deeply and continued, "-sorry, those were her words-and I thought, well, there's one way to test that."

"I...are you even gay?"

Harry glared at him. "I'm young-I don't know. I thought I'd give it a go."

"Ah. Any conclusions?"

He snorted. "No offense, Snape, but I think I'd have to try it with some other bloke before I could tell."

Severus tried very hard not to chuckle, but a spasm got through his defenses. And then two more spasms in rapid succession. And then he laughed a full-body laugh. "I think," he gasped, "that you may call me Severus."

And Harry started laughing too.

Severus calmed down a bit, and invited Harry to have tea with him by the fire. In separate chairs, of course, but he doubted either of them would be tempted to sit together on the couch.

"It's possible that you and I just hate each other," Severus told him.

"I don't buy it," Harry said. "We have too much in common."

"Such as our mutual antipathy."

"Such as we were both asked to give up too much for the war. Such as our only home was Hogwarts. Such as-"

"-we both have dark hair. Common circumstances are not enough, Harry. We have no common experiences." He spoke in the same sarcastic, bitter tone he'd always used, but Harry didn't take offense at it. Perhaps the use of his given name made the difference.

Instead of getting angry, Harry just looked determined. "We both died! Or nearly so!"

"But we experienced those things differently. You died reluctantly but with purpose; my death was arbitrary and I welcomed it. You chose to come back; I'm only here because Minerva is more stubborn than I."

Harry frowned at him. "I just think you're being too reasonable about this. I liked the man I saw in your memories. And now, when I look back on everything you did, knowing what I do now, I like the man in my memories."

"Then you're clearly picking and choosing your memories."

"That's what we all do, Sn- _Severus_ -That's what we all do, for our friends."

Something prickled behind Severus's eyes. Perhaps there was power behind a name after all. With Severus's name added in, Harry's statement sounded like something Minerva would say.

Before he could think about it too much, there was a knock on the door. Severus waved his wand and Ron Weasley walked in.

"Hey Harry. Thought I might find you here." He nodded in Severus's direction. "Snape."

"Please, call me Severus." In for a knut. The evening could hardly get more surreal. Severus might as well put the theory to the ultimate test.

Weasley's eyebrows raised. "Sev'rus," he mumbled, then glanced quickly away and cleared his throat. "Does this have something to do with what Hermione said?" he asked Harry, in what he evidently thought was a code.

Harry blushed, and Severus answered: "It turns out that Miss Granger was wrong."

Ron's mouth dropped, and he again spoke to Harry. "You _told_ him? And how do you know it's wrong? I mean to say-"

"I kissed him," Harry blurted with a wave of his hand, aiming for nonchalant but missing by a mile. "It wasn't good. It was like...I dunno, like if I kissed _you_...but... _weirder_."

Ron looked back and forth between them. "Good to know," he finally said, and plopped himself down on the couch.

"Don't you people have anything better to do?" Severus asked.

"Nah, it's the weekend," Ron said. "Hey, if Hermione's wrong, I've got my own theory for you two."

"What is it, then?" Harry asked, clearly far more eager to hear it than Severus.

"I think you two are at the bitch-eating-crackers phase." Ron said it so confidently that Severus was sure that he should know what he was talking about, but he was at a loss. He looked at Harry, who met his eyes and shrugged.

Severus sighed and asked the question. "What is the bitch-eating-crackers phase?"

"You know. It's when you hate someone so much that everything they do makes you hate them more. For example, they could be eating crackers, and you'd look at them and think, 'Look at that bitch, sitting over there eating crackers like she owns the place.'" He gestured to Harry and Severus and nodded meaningfully. "So you are just two bitches eating crackers."

Harry looked thoughtful. "You know, that makes a lot of sense."

"Far more sense than Miss Granger's theory," Severus agreed. "But I'd need to see you eating crackers to test it."

Harry grinned. Severus wasn't annoyed by the grin. He thought of the Half-Blood Prince, and Harry's fondness for the boy behind the nickname.

"I have a different theory," he said quietly, and his former students looked at him curiously. "I propose that Mr. Potter and I are enemies only in name. Specifically, we are enemies by last name. I suspect Harry and I could get along fine as long as we stuck to first names."

"Bullshit," Ron said good-naturedly. "You'd still fight like crups and kneazles."

"No, no," Harry said. "He has a point. Listen." He cleared his throat and looked right at Severus with furrowed brows. "You are a vindictive arsehole, Severus."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And you are an irrational little twat, Harry."

"Huh," said Ron. "There's something in that."

Harry laughed, and there was another knock on the door.

 _That'll be Miss Granger, of course,_ Severus thought, as Ron said, "Oh, that's probably Hermione."

"How did this happen?" Severus asked, hopelessly.

"We can leave, if you want," Harry said with a nervous look.

"No, I'm sure this is my penance," he said, and waved the door open. "Welcome to my quarters, Hermione, you interfering pervert. Tea?"

Ron exploded in laughter, and Hermione's lips curled up in a smile, but her eyes frowned deeply. She turned to Harry. "Are-are they drunk?"

Harry looked down uncertainly at his tea. "I don't think so?" he said.

"No, Miss-Hermione. We are performing an experiment in first names. Please, call me Severus."

Hermione looked more scandalized by this than Ron had. "S-Severus," she tried out, and blushed.

"Since you're all here and so bent on having a conversation, I wondered if you could answer some questions of mine." And he asked them about their year-about breaking into the Ministry, about the Horcuxes, about the Elder Wand. They answered everything-though Ron and Hermione tended to look to Harry before they answered. For his part, Harry seemed eager to tell his story.

And what a story. It was more like a fairy tale, with the sword of Gryffindor, the locket of Slytherin, the cup of Hufflepuff and the diadem of Ravenclaw-as well as the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility.

It was as if Harry Potter had joined the crew of the Enterprise together with the Jedi to defeat Skeletor. It was impossible, preposterous-it reduced Severus to Muggle metaphors.

When Harry started to explain about how he dueled the Dark Lord, and how he won because the Elder Wand recognized Harry as its master, Ron interrupted.

"Oi!" he said. "Maybe we don't need to go blabbing about that."

But Harry would have none of it. "Ron, it's _Snape_. I think he's proved he can keep a secret or two."

Severus ignored this. "And so now you're the master of two wands?" he asked.

For the first time, Harry looked uncomfortable. "Er-well, technically, three. I used the Elder Wand to mend my holly one. And I tried to give Malfoy's back to him, but he said that it felt wrong now. It still feels fine to me, so maybe-I mean, Ollivander said that a wand could switch allegiance. But the Elder Wand-I don't want it. I-I saw how Voldemort got it, and...I can't-" He broke off and shook his head. "The wand should have stayed where it was."

They all got quiet. Severus checked the time; it was just gone eleven.

"It's late. We should go," Hermione said.

"Erm...I...er, I'd like to stay a little longer," Harry said, then glanced at Severus. "I mean, if that's okay."

Severus sighed and stood up. "You seem to have recovered from death more quickly than I did, Harry. Perhaps it is a function of youth. I, however, am tired. Please, leave."

Harry grinned. "You know Severus, that really does sound so much more friendly when you call me Harry."

"Good. Leave," he repeated.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Harry said hopefully, but Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes.

"Unless I'm very, very lucky," Severus replied, and chivvied them all out his door. He turned around and found Albus spying on him from a landscape on his far wall.

"So help me, old man, if you say one word I will go into that office and burn your portrait to the _ground_."

* * *

He missed breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning, and it wasn't entirely intentional. He'd overslept a bit, and then just wasn't very quick getting ready. It was Saturday, and he still wanted to work on the greenhouses.

When he made it out to the grounds, he was surprised to find Longbottom already there, conjuring pots of all different sizes.

"Good morning, Snape. Have a bit of a lie-in?"

The young man was already so informal with him. Perhaps they should use given names as well. "Call me Severus," he said, before he'd quite decided that he should say it. "May I call you Neville?"

Neville dropped the pot he was holding and it broke neatly in two. He recovered himself quickly, repaired the pot, and said, "Sure, Severus." He grinned. "What brought this on?"

Severus grunted. "An experiment. How permanent are you making these pots?"

"As permanent as the plants we put in them," Neville said casually, as if it weren't a fairly advanced skill to conjure life-long pots.

"Hm," Severus said, as if he weren't impressed, and went to sort out seeds and bulbs over where greenhouse three used to stand.

The job was incredibly slow-going. Some seeds were contained in burnt plants that could still be identified, and Severus put those in small envelopes and labeled them. Some seeds he could recognize by their unique shape-or at least, he could narrow down the list of possibilities. He recognized other seeds by their taste. But the vast majority of seeds he found were vaguely ovoid, brown, bitter, and surrounded by featureless ash. He put these seeds in envelopes, carefully labeling where he found them.

At lunchtime, he brought the seed packets over to Neville, who was putting potting soil in all of the various and sundry pots.

"Where did you get that soil?" Severus asked.

"I found some in the back of greenhouse two and was able to multiply it."

"What did you use as a base?" Soil couldn't be conjured out of thin air-not good soil, anyway. Not soil for plants. "Multiplying" soil actually meant that something else had to be transfigured into soil.

"The ashes," Neville said, and waved his arm at the burnt destruction around them. "It seemed appropriate."

"Indeed," Severus said, impressed. From soil to plant to ash to soil. A closed circle. "Well done," he said and turned to survey all the work they still had ahead of them.

"Severus," the young man said, very close to him.

He turned, and was startled when Neville wrapped his arms around him and kissed him.

Time stopped-or perhaps just Severus did. He couldn't even feel his heartbeat. What was going _on_? Severus hadn't kissed two people in the last _decade_ , and suddenly...this?

Neville finally backed away, far more flustered than he had been a moment ago.

Severus didn't give him time to speak. "Have you been talking to Hermione Granger?"

Neville looked confused. "What? No! Hey-I-I'm sorry, Severus, I just-"

"Perhaps we should revert to surnames."

"Oh, Merlin, you're not even gay, are you?" the young man said, and turned bright red. At Severus's silence, he put his face in his hands. "I don't suppose there's any way we could both pretend that never happened?"

 _Gryffindors._ He couldn't win for losing. "Tell me why you thought that was a good idea."

"I-I just did? You seemed lonely, and you wanted me to call you Severus, and I thought you were a little bent-Merlin, it won't happen again, Snape."

But even as the young man spoke, Severus had visions of teenage boys laughing at him behind their hands. "You're not going back to your cozy little common room and comparing notes each night?" Severus said silkily, and a pot behind Longbottom exploded. The boy ducked instinctively, and Severus grabbed him by the front of his robes and shook him. "You go tell your little friends that I have no interest in fucking _children_ of any gender!" he hissed, and stormed back into the castle.

Severus tried to calm his breathing, but didn't manage to do so until he was all the way back to his office. Longbottom's actions were troubling, but more troubling were the implications. Severus had honestly enjoyed spending time with Potter the night before, but what if the boy really was just like his father? What had he reported to his dorm mates at the end of the evening? And now, what would Longbottom say in his turn? What if they were all doing this on a _dare_?

And hadn't he gotten over worrying about what other people thought about him a long time ago? What was so different about this? _Intimate_ , a voice in his mind whispered. He'd been more trusting with people-letting them get closer-and this is how they treated him? Like he was a plaything, for those just exiting their adolescence? Like he was just another challenge for the Gryffindors to conquer?

He avoided the Great Hall for the rest of the day, and was unsurprised when he heard a knock on his door that evening. It would be Potter, of course. He had no intention of letting the boy stay.

He opened the door and stood there, blocking it.

"Hullo, Severus," Potter said, completely tone-deaf to Severus's mood and body language.

"Potter," he growled in reply, and Potter finally stiffened.

"What happened to your experiment?" he said carefully.

"It is over. Leave me, Potter. Go be with your _friends_ ," he said with a sneer. "Have sex with your Miss Weasley."

Potter's cheeks went pink. "She-she spends the night at the Burrow. Is...this a test?" he said.

Severus slammed the door in his face, and was gratified that he didn't knock again.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was overcast and rainy, so Severus did not even go outside. He ate all his meals in the Great Hall, steadfastly glaring at anyone who dared to look at him too long.

"You seem to be back to normal," Minerva said at dinner. "I was rather taking a liking to the new and improved Professor Snape."

"The one who cried at every turn?" he sneered.

"The one who showed human emotions at times, yes."

"Well, unfortunately I am feeling more myself today."

She had the nerve to look at him sadly. "What's wrong, Severus?" she asked.

What was right? Merlin, he hated everybody because nobody would leave him alone. For the first time since his miraculous survival, he found himself ardently wishing he had died. Minerva probably only saved him to punish him. He cursed her for finding him in the Shrieking Shack to begin with-stupid, meddling Gryffindor that she was. He speared his peas with a fork. "Do you have a list of all people who currently spend the night at the castle?" he asked abruptly. It had bothered him, last night, when Potter had told him that Ginevra Weasley slept elsewhere-he realized he had no idea who was at Hogwarts at any given time. As headmaster, he should know better.

"Pomona's keeping track of that," she said, and Pomona, on the other side of Severus, perked up at her name.

"Yes?" she said.

Severus repeated his request to her, and Pomona promised to get the list to him later that night.

The list she gave him was quite impressive. It could be sorted by name, by House affiliation, by work crew, or by day workers versus overnight residents. He was surprised to find that there were a proportionate number of Slytherins among the overnight residents.

Ronald was the only Weasley who slept at the castle, although Molly, Bill, and Ginevra spent most days there.

As he perused the list that evening, someone knocked on his door for a solid hour. He ignored it.

Monday dawned bright and clear. Severus ate a piece of toast in his rooms, skipping breakfast in the Great Hall. Instead of going out to the greenhouses, he decided to seek out some of the resident Slytherins, to make sure their situation was tolerable-that no one was giving them problems. He sorted Pomona's list by work crew, and saw that the crew working inside the castle split into groups of threes. It offended Severus slightly that none of the Slytherins were working together, until he noticed that no two people from the same House were in the same group. Blaise Zabini was with Susan Bones and Terry Boot; Millicent Bulstrode was with Hannah Abbot and Ronald Weasley. When Severus spoke to Zabini and Miss Bulstrode, both gave him vague assurances that everything was fine.

He found Theodore Nott working with Harry Potter and Justin Finch-Fletchley just outside the Charms classroom. He summoned Mr. Nott away from the other boys, who looked on speculatively, but Severus cast _Muffliato_. Potter scowled and went back to clearing rubble.

Severus ignored him and explained to Mr. Nott his concerns.

But Nott just shrugged. "I don't really have anywhere else I'd rather stay. And they leave me alone, well enough, as long as I'm helping. They know I didn't actively fight against them. And if I can't judge them for who their parents are, they can't judge me for what my parents _did_."

"They leave you alone, you say?"

"Well-they're too friendly, to be honest. I mean, look at them." Severus and Nott both turned to look at the other boys, who were busy brushing off a suit of armor that was rather dented. Nott sighed. "They're probably too noble to even be listening in, even if you hadn't cast that spell."

Severus agreed, but he had no advice to offer for dealing with overly friendly coworkers.

* * *

He made it to the greenhouses by mid-morning.

Longbottom was there, planting seeds in the pots he'd conjured over the weekend. Severus stopped and watched him-the boy had several books lying open beside him, and he consulted with these as he went along, evidently adjusting the soil slightly based on the plant's individual needs. Longbottom took great care with each plant, watering it and talking to it, casting a few charms on the pot, then moving on to the next set of seeds.

Severus hadn't expected to see the boy this morning. Or ever again, really. He couldn't fathom why Longbottom would come back, unless it was to humiliate him further. But as he heard the boy humming an old folk song to newly planted bulbs, he had to admit that the scenario seemed unlikely.

After Severus watched him finish four pots, Longbottom looked up and saw him. The boy's jaw tightened as he nodded, and went back to his task.

Severus walked over to the finished pots, and saw that they'd been labeled in Longbottom's neat lettering. "ALOE VERA," one read. "DITTANY," was another. All of the plants were used for burns and skin abrasions, and flourished in dry warmth.

Dry warmth. It was like Longbottom was being purposely difficult; these plants needed shelter from the cool dampness that was May at Hogwarts.

Severus walked over to a clear patch of grass and imagined what he needed. It didn't have to be big, but big _enough_ , and he was still weak enough that he couldn't conjure it in one go; he'd have to do it in stages. He closed his eyes and conjured the frame for a tiny greenhouse, no more than five by seven feet. He opened his eyes and examined his creation from where he stood; it looked fine.

He sat down, heavily, and rested. It took a lot of energy to conjure something that wouldn't last more than month, no matter how much magic they used to reinforce it. He would need to look into how to build more permanent structures soon, but the thought of it exhausted him, so he pushed it from his mind.

He listened to Longbottom, a short distance behind him, humming softly at some new cutting he'd just planted.

The boy had hummed several tunes by the time Severus stood up and walked around his greenhouse frame. There wasn't much to look at. He decided to conjure tables and shelves next. One of the tables wobbled a bit, but Severus didn't have the energy to fix it just yet. He leaned against the non-wobbly table and watched Longbottom for a while longer.

The boy eventually stood up and brushed his hands on his robes. He looked over at Severus. "Don't suppose you planned to put in some glass panels, did you?"

Severus didn't look at him when he replied: "No, I rather thought it should stay just so."

Longbottom hesitated. "Need help?"

"No," he said with a scowl.

"Didn't think so," the boy said, and pulled his wand. He pointed it at the makeshift greenhouse and suddenly all of the empty frames were filled with perfectly beveled glass panels.

Before Severus could think of something appropriately snide to say to the idiot boy, Longbottom said, "You're an arse, Severus Snape." He tucked his wand back into his robes and walked away. "I'll see you after lunch," he called out over his shoulder.

Severus really didn't understand people.

After lunch, he planted seeds and cuttings alongside Longbottom-not that he sat close to the boy, but close enough so that they could both reach the same stockpile of pots. They didn't say one word to each other, but both of them sang occasionally to the plants-Severus only doing so if it was strictly necessary, but Longbottom was more liberal with his singing. The boy had a limited range, but he chose appropriate songs for it. As the singing didn't hurt anything, Severus kept his peace.

They finished the day by moving the plants into the artificially warm and dry air of the makeshift greenhouse. On a whim, Severus charmed a piece of wood to read "Greenhouse Zero" and hung it over the door. Longbottom grinned, but didn't comment.

* * *

After dinner that night, Potter once again knocked on his door, this time yelling, "I know you're in there, Severus!"

Severus opened the door after one knock. "Yes, Potter?" he asked with false innocence.

"Oh, good, you're still in that mood," Potter said, and tried to push past him to enter his rooms, but Severus didn't budge.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked.

"I want to talk to you, you stupid git. Move over." Potter kept shoving, and Severus decided to let him in before it became clear that Potter could overpower him. How long did it take to recover from death, anyway? Potter seemed fine.

"Any particular topics you wanted to discuss?" Severus asked, as Potter stumbled into the room and looked mildly surprised at having gained entrance.

"Why are you back to calling me Potter?"

"I could call you Dexter if you prefer. Or Monroe. I was merely under the impression that Potter was your name."

Potter growled. "I'm still going to call you Severus."

Severus didn't react, but Potter was clearly waiting for something. "You wanted to talk to me, I believe?" Severus prompted.

"Yes, because we told you everything that happened to us, but you didn't tell us anything-I just wanted to know your side of the story."

Oh, for Merlin's sake. His expression became stony. "You have already seen all of my secrets, Potter. I have nothing to add to that."

Potter reddened. "Fine, then. Tell me a story about my mum."

Severus blinked, and Potter looked at him hopefully, proving once again that he could not read Severus at all.

"Tell me a story about Sirius Black," he replied smoothly.

Potter sputtered. "W-why?"

Severus breathed slowly, in and out, twice. "Potter, leave."

"I-I thought we were past this."

Severus snorted. "How is Mr. Longbottom doing?"

Potter looked confused. "Fine? I guess? He's still working with you, right?"

"Don't play innocent. I know what you two are doing, and it won't work."

Potter looked even more confused, then seemed to come to a decision. "You're a real mess, you know that, Severus?"

"That's rich, coming from you."

"Fine, fine, I'll leave. But I'm coming back again tomorrow night." And the boy scowled at him, as if he were disappointed in Severus.

The next morning, Minerva sat down next to him in the Great Hall as he irritably spooned oatmeal into his bowl. "Good morning," she said. She gave him her customary update on the progress of castle rebuilding, and he barely listened as she recounted Argus Filch's efforts to mend all the torn and burnt canvases of the many portraits in the castle.

"Minerva," he began, and stopped there because he wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Yes?" she said, after a prolonged pause.

"Has a student ever...made a pass at you?"

She stared at him, nonplussed. And then she erupted into laughter. "Severus!" she wheezed, and made to wipe her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. Tell me-who was the brave soul?"

He looked away, pretending ignorance.

"Oh, it must have been a brave soul indeed, so it was probably one of mine. Can I guess?"

"I'd rather you not."

"Oh, so it wasn't someone I would expect, then." She chuckled and punched him in the shoulder. "'Has a student ever made a pass at me'-oh, Severus, it's been many, many moons."

"So it did happen to you?"

"Yes, and to be fair, it's probably only funny because it was so long ago. I was properly horrified at the time."

"How did you...discourage the student?"

She laughed again. "I hope you won't think less of me when I tell you that I avoided him. He approached me after his N.E.W.T.s were over, so I only had to duck around corners for a week or so." She thought about it. "But he was a Ravenclaw-I'm thinking that a Gryffindor wouldn't be so easily discouraged."

He groaned. "Two. Two Gryffindors."

She looked shocked for a moment, then howled with laughter once again. Many of the students in the hall turned to look at her. Severus sank down slightly in his seat.

Minerva collected herself, then leaned over and said, with a perfectly straight face, "Together, or separately?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she immediately broke into giggles. He tried to hold on to his anger, but the sight of Minerva-Professor McGonagall- _giggling_ -his personal outrage couldn't stand against it. He chuckled once or twice despite himself. "Separately, as far as I can tell, you old pervert."

She leaned back in her chair and clutched her stomach, still shaking with laughter. "Oh! Oh, Severus."

Pomona chose that moment to walk into the Great Hall. "Did I miss something?" she asked.

"Nothing at all," Severus said, just as Minerva said, "Severus has some admirers."

"That's hardly surprising," Pomona said, and Severus glared at her.

"Oh, Severus, you were all alone and despised, and then revealed to be fighting secretly for the Good Guys. It's all very fanciable."

"Well said," Minerva agreed. "His paramours are Gryffindor, of course."

"I _do not_ have paramours."

Pomona shrugged. "Are they current or former students?"

Severus hesitated.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Pomona said. "It's Harry Potter, isn't it?"

Severus felt his face heat, and put it down on the table. It wasn't his smoothest move. Minerva stopped giggling abruptly.

"He's one of them, yes," he groaned into the table.

He felt his shoulders being patted by both women. "Well, it's no wonder you've been out of sorts recently," Minerva said fairly.

He waited until he'd regained control of himself, then sat up as if nothing odd had occurred. He pulled his oatmeal back towards himself and took a bite. Pomona followed his lead and started dishing out her own bowl.

"How are the greenhouses coming along?" she asked conversationally. "I saw Greenhouse Zero yesterday," she admitted with a warm smile.

Severus nodded. "We're making progress," he said, and his stomach dropped when he realized what that might sound like. He plowed on, hoping she didn't notice. "I wondered if you had a map of the greenhouses, showing approximately where each plant was growing."

But she was staring at him open-mouthed. "Oh, sweet heavens-Neville Longbottom, too?" she said.

Severus groaned. It was a good thing the Dark Lord hadn't been a Hufflepuff.

When he didn't say anything, she said, "I have no idea what to do about that, Severus. Maybe they would be put off if you were nice to them?"

He glared at her.

"Yes," she said without rancor, "that strategy does present its own difficulties. And I'll draw up a map of the greenhouses from what I can remember."

* * *

That day, he and Longbottom worked to identify some of the seeds they'd found. They used the map Pomona had provided along with some spells out of a crumbling old book that Severus didn't recognize.

"What book is this?" he asked the young man.

Longbottom shrugged. "My gran just called it 'The Plant Book.' I nicked it from her library."

But the young man had more than a passing familiarity with the different sections of the book, and was able to pronounce the obscure spells perfectly the first time.

"It's good you have books instead of friends," Severus sneered at the boy. Longbottom frowned at him but didn't mention the Half-Blood Prince.

Were Potter and Longbottom making fun of him behind his back, or weren't they?

In any case, using The Plant Book, they were able to systematically identify three-quarters of the mystery seeds, and of the seeds that remained uncategorized, Longbottom was able to discern something of their preferences: this seed liked sandy soil; that seed preferred a slightly alkaline environment; this other seed needed partial shade; still another needed high humidity.

They also cleared away the twisted and burnt metal frames of the old greenhouses, Vanishing the parts that were completely ruined, and saving what could still be salvaged and reshaped for the new greenhouses. Severus ordered metal beams and sheets from a Muggle supply company-the size and shape didn't matter, as they could use magic to reshape the material. He also ordered hundreds of sheets of plate glass. He arranged for all of these things to be shipped by the Hogwarts Express. He put Aurora Sinistra in charge of taking care of the shipment.

Severus and Longbottom planned a schedule for planting and greenhouse construction. They tried to prioritize plants used in calming draughts and mental health potions, but since those plants needed such disparate growing conditions, they had to first consult with Horace to see what stores were in most desperate need of replenishing, with an eye to maturation time for different plants.

All of this took them the rest of the week.

Potter continued to make almost nightly appearances at his door, though Severus was able to fend him off well enough with feigned apathy. But still, Potter knocked every night at eight o'clock, and Severus continued to turn him away until one night when the boy showed up with a bottle of mead. He held it out to Severus with a hopeful look on his face. "Do you like mead?" he asked.

"Trying to get me drunk, Potter?"

Potter looked disappointed in him-again. "No, I just always come here empty-handed and thought this was a better option than Exploding Snap."

A snort escaped Severus. He grabbed the mead and tried to close the door in Potter's face, but the young man was having none of it. He somehow maneuvered inside the door-Severus supposed it was a skill born of dodging bludgers-and made his way to the sitting room. Apparently, Potter was past the stage where he asked permission. Or perhaps he thought that the mead excused him.

Severus followed the boy but didn't sit down. Potter had already settled into an armchair. "Potter-I'm not sure how often I will have to repeat this-but we're not friends."

"Nonsense, Severus. I'm here to tell you a story about Sirius Black."

What? "What?"

"You asked me to tell you a story about him. You caught me off-guard, but I'm ready. I used to think that Sirius died because of me-but I buried it, because I couldn't look right at it, so I blamed you instead. I blamed you for not teaching me Occlumency properly, I blamed you for not helping me when I asked you-I _told_ you-that Sirius was in trouble."

"Potter..."

"No, let me finish. It was easier to blame you, see? Even though Hermione told me-over and over again-that I should have learned to Occlude, that I needed to learn to Occlude-and even when I thought I had to rush off to save Sirius-even on that night, Hermione tried to pull me back. But I couldn't-I couldn't keep getting up every morning if I let myself think, 'oh, Sirius would still be alive if only I'd done _this_ , or if I'd've learned _that_.' But every once in a while-those thoughts would creep in, and when they did, I just-I just put it all off on you. _You_ should have known I could never learn Occlumency from you. _You_ should have taught me better. _You_ shouldn't have taunted Sirius like you did."

Severus wasn't going to volunteer that he probably shouldn't have made the Polyjuice that the Dark Lord had used to fool Potter. He kept his peace.

"But nothing is as simple as you hope it is when you're fifteen. I made my choices, you made yours, and Sirius made his. And Voldemort, of course, made _his_ -and Bellatrix, most of all-and Sirius died. And now you want a story about Sirius. So, fine: In my fifth year, when I saw Mr. Weasley attacked by the snake-that whole thing that led to Occlumency lessons-I thought that I was being possessed by Voldemort. I thought _I_ had attacked Mr. Weasley-because it felt like it-I could feel his ribs cracking under my teeth-" Potter shuddered, and Severus shuddered with him. The boy closed his eyes and collected himself.

"Fuck. Sorry. Anyway, we went straight to Grimmauld Place, and I was so scared I would attack someone else-because I felt the snake again when I was with Dumbledore-I was just a fucking _mess_ -and I told Sirius. Everything." He paused. "And you know what he told me? That I needed food and rest." Potter laughed, absolutely without humor. He looked down at his hands, clenched in his lap.

Severus sighed elaborately. He Summoned some glasses and poured out two hefty portions of mead. He handed one to Potter, who took it gratefully. Then he settled himself into the other armchair.

He waited for several minutes, wondering how the evening would proceed, until he finally realized that it was his turn to speak, and Potter would wait as long as he had to. And he knew what Potter wanted him to say-the boy had told him a story about Black, after all-but he wasn't ready to think about it yet.

So instead, he said, "I never would have guessed that Black was that kind of guardian."

"Oh, he wasn't," Potter said. "Which is how I knew he was lying, and I was sure I was going to attack someone else any minute. I couldn't believe that Dumbledore was so stupid as to send me back to the secret headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

"I remember expressing similar concerns to the headmaster at the time."

"Yeah, well, Dumbledore was pretty good at concealing his reasons until the last possible moment, and leaving the rest of us doubting his sanity. And ours, for trusting him."

Severus had no reply to that, so he sipped his mead.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Potter began, and Severus stiffened, "how you knew that Ron would save me from that frozen pool when you gave us the sword of Gryffindor."

So he was being granted a reprieve, then. "I didn't. In fact, for a moment, I was sure I'd killed the Boy Who Lived."

Potter looked at him, and laughed.

Severus defended himself: "To be fair, I didn't think that jumping in a frozen pond in the dead of winter-by yourself-was quite as life-threatening as you made it."

"Yes, I know-it was probably a bad time to be wearing one of Voldemort's Horcruxes." Potter shifted in his seat and took a sip of mead. "I-I wanted...to ask you about my mum. Please don't-please don't kick me out-" (for Severus had set his mead down with an unforgiving 'thunk' on the side table and glared at him with open hostility) "-but when I saw the doe-I don't know, I hadn't slept, really, for two nights-only nightmares-and when she came-it was like the best kind of dream, like I had been waiting for her my whole life, and it was the first time I'd felt safe since Nagini nearly killed me and Hermione. And I-I just want to know about her."

The wound should have healed over by now, probably, but Severus was beginning to think it never would. And it was his fate to be scraped raw over and over again by Harry Potter.

"What do you know of Lily Evans?" he asked the boy, utterly defeated.

Potter snorted softly. "She died saving me. I have her eyes. She was Muggle-born. She had a shit sister."

He paused in his recitation, and Severus wondered if that was all, but the boy continued.

"She was good at Charms, I think? And potions, but that may have been because she hung round you. Oh, and there was this seedy-looking black-haired boy who she was friends with."

Silence settled around them, and Severus wondered how well a person could know anyone, really. The boy's list-how much more did Severus really know about Lily? Except for the way she wrinkled her nose when she was upset. She also liked to wrinkle her nose when they were outside on a cold day: "It feels like it gets stuck! Don't do it, Sev, or your nose may never straighten out!"-and she giggled at him, and it was the most welcome teasing he'd ever endured. Or the way she sneezed: always in threes-and if she ever sneezed twice, Severus would wait for the third sneeze-sometimes five minutes later-before he said, "Bless you." Lily never seemed to notice.

"Tell me about the first time you met her," Potter said, breaking the silence.

Severus shifted and glared at the boy. "You already know about that."

"Then tell me about the last time you saw her."

Christ, and the boy didn't even seem to _want_ to hurt him. He cast around for any appropriate story, just to stop the boy from fishing.

"I don't think Lily ever gave up on Petunia," he finally said. "When Petunia married that fat oaf, Lily was not invited to stand with her sister. Instead, she served cake at the reception. She smiled the whole time she did it."

He didn't intend to say any more, but Potter seemed to be waiting. Finally, the boy said, "You were invited to the Dursleys' wedding."

Even Severus had to admire the amount of sarcasm the boy was able to put into so few words. He smirked. "The man I used Polyjuice to emulate had been invited, yes."

Potter still looked confused. "Why did you want to go?"

"Boredom. Curiosity. It was the summer before my seventh year."

"Still. I can't imagine voluntarily spending time with Vernon and Petunia."

"Do you hate them?" Severus asked. He'd been wondering at the answer to this question for years.

Potter hesitated. "You know, they went into hiding this past year. It was the Order's idea-thought they might be attacked by Death Eaters. And I thought it was a good plan for two reasons: one, because if they felt threatened by Death Eaters, my relatives would have gladly spilled everything they knew about me. Which wasn't much, but who knows what little bit of information would have given me away? And two, because if my relatives were threatened by Death Eaters, I wasn't sure I'd...want to try to save them. I didn't want to find out if I could be that heartless."

Severus had no doubt that the boy would have saved them, regardless of his personal feelings. After all, the boy had saved Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle from a hell of their own devising. And then he'd submitted statements clearing Draco's name. "Are your relatives out of hiding now?"

Potter looked at him and burst into unexpected laughter. "You know, I don't even know," he said.

Severus raised his glass and Potter followed suit. They both drank deeply, and stared at the fire in companionable silence.

"Wait," Potter said. "The summer before your seventh year-that was the last time you saw my mum?"

Severus gave the boy a withering look.

"Right," Potter said, and wisely left it at that.

After a while, there was a knock on the door. "Oh," Potter said. "That'll be Ron. I asked him to check on me if I wasn't back in an hour."

That had probably been a wise precaution. Severus flicked his wand, and Weasley let himself into the sitting room. "Severus. Harry. Still alive, I see."

"Still alive," Potter agreed.

"I'll leave you to it, then. Unless you want another check-up in, say, an hour?"

"Potter will be long gone by then," Severus said.

"Good," Weasley said. "I'll just assume you don't mean 'gone' as in 'murdered.' Don't drink all the mead!" And with that, Weasley let himself out.

"Why do all your friends assume that we are friends?"

"You mean other than the ones who assume that we're lovers?"

Severus's mood darkened considerably, so that even Potter seemed to notice.

"Sorry," the boy said. "Too soon."

"I think it's time for you to leave," Severus said.

"Oh, no. No way. If I leave when you're like this, you'll just stew over it and get more angry at me, and I won't be able to talk to you for another week."

"Yes, and perhaps you could do us both a favor and leave me alone for the intervening days."

"No, look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it-"

"POTTER. This is not a puzzle or a hint or a concealed lie. I am being blunt. You should go now, and leave me alone for another week."

But for some reason, the boy looked hopeful at this. "Is that-are you inviting me back next week?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake." _Even when I win, he wins._ "Leave me now."

And the boy did.

* * *

That night, he dreamed he was a snake. Minerva was there, and she looked at him and said, "Severus...please..." and she was Albus and she was Charity and Severus was a snake and he lunged at her and bit her on the neck, viciously, and her blood was warm in his throat, and it hurt her, and he could feel it too, because he could remember...

And he woke up in a cold sweat.

* * *

 **Singing to plants might seem familiar to you, because I stole it-a theft as blatant as it was unconscious-from "Night-blooming heartsease" by julad. Oh well. At least it puts me in the happy position to recommend that fic, if you haven't read it already. (Warning: it's a tear-jerker.)**

 **I also quoted Homestar Runner there, or, more accurately, Strong Bad. Strong Bad was talking about Homestar to the Cheat and said, "Even when we win, he wins."**


	5. Chapter 5

Severus had been working on the greenhouses for weeks, and even though he and Longbottom had made progress, there was still a daunting amount of work to be done. They'd finally cleared out the ruins of the old greenhouses, and they'd already received shipment of all the metal and glass materials-but for all this, Severus didn't know how to proceed. So, with no other ideas, he found several books on construction in the library, and brought them with him to the greenhouses one morning. Longbottom hadn't arrived yet, so he conjured a chair and sat reading while he waited.

"Looks like someone else has books instead of friends."

Severus looked up and saw Longbottom studying him with a raised eyebrow.

"Unfortunately for you, I am unfamiliar with these books," Severus said, and snapped the book shut and showed Longbottom the title. _Building from the Ground Up: Permanent Structures._

Longbottom groaned. "I had a vague idea of bringing in professionals for this step."

"Where's your sense of adventure, Gryffindor?"

"Not in construction. Where's your practicality, Slytherin?"

"I don't trust anyone else with the job."

Longbottom flopped down on the grass beside Severus's chair. "We are demonstrating the very worst of our House characteristics, here." The boy laid back and folded his hands behind his head. "You know what we need right now?"

"A Hufflepuff."

Longbottom laughed. "That's not what I was thinking, but that'd do it."

"What, then?"

"Professional help."

"Sod off," Severus said, and Longbottom looked at him oddly. Severus felt himself coloring-when had he got so informal with the boy? He looked away.

Longbottom carried on. "So you'd rather us both learn construction from library books."

"That was my plan, yes."

"How long do you think this will take?"

Severus felt like he was being scolded by a seventeen-year-old boy, and didn't appreciate it. "A week, at the outside," he said, and glared at Longbottom, daring him to challenge the timetable.

"A week. To build six greenhouses from scratch."

"No, you uncomprehending fool. A week of study, then perhaps two weeks to build the greenhouses."

"A week," Longbottom repeated tonelessly.

Severus opened _Building from the Ground Up_ , and made a show of reading it.

Longbottom sighed loudly, and picked up _Practical Considerations for Permanent Magical Buildings_.

They spent the morning reading, and Severus felt he knew less than when he started. The first chapter was full of words like _joist_ and _dormer_. He tried to skip to the next chapter, but it had words like _fascia_ and _soffit_ , and he'd never felt so stupid. There weren't nearly enough diagrams for him to understand. He couldn't find definitions, either, but he did find that a soffit was unnecessary, as the beams could be left exposed. Severus had a vague notion that he didn't want his beams exposed.

At lunchtime, Longbottom closed his book. "You know," the boy said, with a false innocence that Severus immediately hated, "I'd say that with about four more days of this, I'll be ready to build my own greenhouse."

"I stand by my earlier sentiment: Sod off," Severus said, without a trace of a blush this time.

"So, you're making progress, then?"

Severus growled, but couldn't contain his frustration. "If someone could just explain to me what a bloody soffit is."

"I don't think our greenhouses will have soffits."

"Good, then that's sorted," Severus said, guessing that the greenhouses would have exposed beams, then. "...Wait. What is a soffit?"

"It's, like, the part underneath your eaves?" The boy gestured vaguely.

This cleared nothing up for Severus. "You don't sound confident," he accused.

"I never claimed to be an expert."

"Tell me what the fuck eaves are, then."

Longbottom barked a short laugh. "It's..." he gestured more firmly with his hands flat, fingers together, palms down, "it's the part of the roof that sticks out a little bit on the sides."

Severus resented the definition because he realized that-yes, of course-he knew what eaves were. "I'm going to lunch," he said, and strode off to the Great Hall.

But when he walked back to the castle grounds after lunch, Longbottom was already at the greenhouses, and he was not alone. Miss Lovegood was with him.

"Hullo, Professor Snape," she said.

"Miss Lovegood," he acknowledged. "What are you doing here?"

"Neville said he needed help. I've been busy working with the beings and creatures in the Forbidden Forest, but the centaurs told me just this morning that they think I've done enough to help them."

Severus would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.

"I think Luna can help us," Longbottom said, in a way that made Severus feel like he was being handled.

"Really," he replied, unimpressed. "You have experience in construction, then?" he asked the girl.

"Oh, yes. I helped my parents build our home when I was seven. And I helped Daddy add an attic room when I was twelve. And I built a shed in the backyard when I was fourteen. But Mum and Daddy did all the designing-all I did was help put everything in place."

Severus stared at her, and she stared back.

He wished he could ask her intelligent questions regarding the construction of greenhouses. But even if he could, he wouldn't be able to discern if her answers were intelligent. He had knowledge of plants-he just hadn't realized before today how little that knowledge meant when it came to actually building a greenhouse.

Besides, he'd asked for a Hufflepuff and the boy had returned with a blasted Ravenclaw.

"Come with me," he said, because at the very least, they needed a Hufflepuff opinion. He knew Pomona would be working the grounds, and he found her near the lake, instructing a small student brigade on how to save a grove of trees that had been badly damaged. When she saw him, she came right over.

"Can I help you, Severus?" she asked.

"Yes. Miss Lovegood has volunteered her services for the construction of the greenhouses, and I thought you should interview her first."

Pomona looked confused, but carried on anyway. "Well, Miss Lovegood, do you think you can help rebuild the greenhouses?"

"Yes, Professor Sprout, but it would be nice to have some sort of drawing to go off of."

"I can sketch some ideas out for you tonight, if that would work," Pomona said.

"That would be lovely," the girl said.

Pomona nodded and glanced at Severus. "Is that all, then?"

"You don't want to see if she's qualified first?" Severus asked incredulously.

"Heavens, no, I don't need to see anyone's portfolio."

"Pomona-Neville and I have no idea how to go about constructing permanent greenhouses. Do you really want Miss Lovegood to be the skilled labor we bring in?" Longbottom looked inordinately pleased at this comment, and Severus couldn't figure out why. Hadn't he just insulted the boy and his friend?

"Oh, Severus. The best way to get things done is by doing them. If you and Neville want Miss Lovegood's help, she's willing to help you. If you think you're better off without it, I'm sure she can find ways to help elsewhere."

And there was the Hufflepuff kick in the pants. He looked at Longbottom, who seemed to be standing straighter-because he couldn't have just grown three inches, could he?-and who was looking back at him with a silly grin.

Nonplussed, Severus turned and walked back toward the greenhouses, with Longbottom and Lovegood following closely behind, chatting away. By the time they reached their destination, it was clear that Miss Lovegood had somehow taken over as project manager. "So I think we should all make sketches of what we think the greenhouses should look like," she said. "Let's not talk to each other about them, because we all have our own ideas, and it will be fun to see what we're all thinking. Let's have those ready tomorrow, and then maybe we can work out the designs we like best, and maybe start to build a model, just to make sure everything will work properly."

"Okay!" Longbottom agreed with enthusiasm. "So we'll meet back here tomorrow morning with our ideas!" He flashed a smile and Severus glared at him.

"See you later, Professor Snape," Miss Lovegood said, and she walked away with Longbottom. Severus scowled at their backs and picked up his books on construction. He opened up the one Longbottom had been reading, _Practical Considerations for Permanent Magical Buildings_. He read a paragraph about the critical importance of flashing.

 _Flashing_? Evidently, flashing was tricky around dormers. He flipped through a few more pages, looking for any sort of diagram, but there were none.

He snapped the book shut and stormed back to his rooms.

He had no intention of doing a _homework assignment_ set by _Luna Lovegood_. But he couldn't help dreaming of the greenhouses in his head. He'd rather liked the old greenhouses, but they could have used a few more nooks and crannies, and higher doors. Professor Sprout, being short, never banged _her_ head on any of the door frames, but he certainly had.

By dinnertime, he had already made several sketches. He tweaked his designs all evening, and when he woke up the next morning, he an idea for the best way to arrange the tables in greenhouse five. He hastily modified the sketch to reflect the change. He decided that he liked his designs so much that he didn't care what plans the others had-they would definitely build the greenhouses his way.

Pomona handed him her own sketches during breakfast that morning. "I promised these to Miss Lovegood," she said. "I won't have time to stop by today, so I hope you don't mind delivering them, Severus." She grinned at him good-naturedly.

Severus unrolled the parchment and saw sketches of perfectly plain and functional greenhouses. His were far superior. "Not at all," he said, and rolled the scrolls back up.

When he met up with Miss Lovegood and Longbottom, they were both grinning and holding their own scrolls. "Ready for this?" Longbottom asked.

Miss Lovegood insisted that they all reveal their drawings at the same time. Longbottom's had elegantly louvered panels, which even Severus had to admire. Miss Lovegood's plans looked disturbingly like Severus's, with the exception of copper spikes all along the edges of the roof. "It's a well-known nargle repellent," the girl said.

Severus wasn't sure what to say to that, so he stuck to the facts. "We don't have any copper to use for construction," he said.

"That's okay," the girl said, looking slightly to the left of Severus, so that he was tempted to turn and look behind him. "Daddy has lots left over from when we made the shed-I'll owl him and have him send on the extra."

"Do the spikes have to be so...spiky?" Longbottom asked.

"Oh, no. I just wanted to make sure you could see them on the drawing," she replied.

They quickly decided to use Severus's basic layout, along with Longbottom's louvers. Miss Lovegood insisted that they include the nargle-repelling copper spikes, and since Severus couldn't think of a good reason not to do so, he conceded. They made a scale model of the new greenhouse one using some of the metal from an old greenhouse and a broken pane of glass that Miss Lovegood took out of her bag. Severus didn't want to ask why Miss Lovegood had broken glass in her bag, but the mystery was too much for Longbottom.

"Luna, aren't you worried you'll reach into your bag and cut yourself?" he asked her.

"Oh," she said, "It's fine as long as I'm careful. Harry had a bit of broken glass with him when he was captured at the Malfoys, and I thought it was very clever of him."

Miss Lovegood also used small bits of aluminum bottle caps to simulate the copper spikes. "The real ones will be copper, obviously, since nargles are impervious to aluminum," she assured them.

When they finished, the tiny greenhouse could fit in Severus's hand. Miss Lovegood and Longbottom beamed at each other, but Severus couldn't take his eyes off the model. He wanted to take it home, but Miss Lovegood insisted that he bring it back the next day so they could use it as a template.

They spent the rest of the week constructing two greenhouses. The work was extremely tedious, as it was almost impossible to get all the edges to line up correctly. They had to use an inordinate amount of magic to get the doors to open and close properly. Severus didn't know how Muggles did it. Even Miss Lovegood's patience seemed to be tested: the door in greenhouse two was slightly too big for the frame and wouldn't close properly, so she shrank it. Then it was too small to latch, so she enlarged it again, and it was again too big for the frame. After she'd gone back and forth a few times, she said, "This bloody door is impossible." She said it so conversationally that Severus did a double-take. She caught him staring and said, "Would you like to try?"

He cast the most minor Enlargement Charm imaginable, and the door fit perfectly and latched. Miss Lovegood beamed at him and went to open the door. It dragged on the ground and wouldn't open more than a foot. "How is that even possible?" she asked him.

"Perhaps your nargles have been burrowing nearby and made the ground uneven."

She howled with laughter. "Professor Snape!" she gasped. "Nargles aren't subterranean!"

"Good to know," he said, and spelled away the top level of soil within the radius of the door. The door swung freely and Miss Lovegood clapped with delight. But at that moment, Longbottom walked over carrying plants from greenhouse zero and said, "Did you purposely design a patch of mud in front of the greenhouse door?"

Severus frowned; the young man's comment had given unwanted perspective on his triumph. He really shouldn't have Vanished the grass, but he'd been distracted by the damn nargles. He sighed and let Miss Lovegood explain.

* * *

Potter made his scheduled appearance on Sunday night. This time, Severus did not intend to let the boy direct the discussion. His own nightmare after their last conversation had made him wonder about Potter's ability to sleep peacefully, so Severus planned to satisfy his curiosity and hedge off whatever discussion the boy wanted to have.

"Do you have nightmares?" he asked almost as soon as Potter sat down.

Potter looked relieved that he'd been asked, because he never had the proper reactions to anything. "Yes, actually," he said, "and I wanted to talk to you about it."

Oh, of course, Severus should have expected that.

"Erm...the Dreamless Sleep helped at first, you know, but you can't take that forever, and Madam Pomfrey was actually pretty stingy with it-but it was okay, because after the first couple of times I took it, I was able to sleep through the nights, more or less, just fine. But lately...it's like...everything is starting to...hit me, I guess."

"What do you dream about?" Severus asked, because the boy would probably mistake his heartless curiosity for caring concern.

"I...erm..." The boy closed his eyes, and clenched his fists in his lap. All color slowly drained from his face. Severus watched, fascinated. Suddenly, the boy jumped up-Severus startled back-and the boy looked around the room desperately. Severus cottoned on, not a moment too soon, and conjured a bucket in front of the boy. Potter grabbed on to it, and retched up his entire supper.

"God, I'm sorry. _God_ , I'm sorry," he whispered, as Severus Vanished the entire mess in disgust. Potter had collapsed to the floor in an ungainly teenage heap, and looked at Severus with tears in his eyes.

Severus supposed he deserved it. He said nothing, because he had no desire to comfort the boy, nor to chastise him.

"You know, I'm not a Parselmouth anymore? Hermione said I might not be, so I tried it out, and nothing. There...there was a part of me that was always _him_ , and now I don't know who I am without it. How sick is that? What the fuck is wrong with me that I _miss_ it?"

"Christ, Potter. You could never have normal problems, could you?"

And with that, the boy dissolved into tears-the ugly, hiccuping kind.

Severus sighed, and went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He sipped at it, slowly, and tried not to listen to Potter's ongoing breakdown in the other room. Finally, the wretched noises that he resolutely ignored grew quieter, and he glanced back through the door. He could see the boy wiping his face with his sleeve. On a whim, Severus conjured another glass of water and took it to Potter.

The boy took it gratefully but didn't meet his eyes.

"Potter," Severus said carefully, "do you have any Hufflepuff friends?"

"W-what?" the boy asked thickly.

Severus sat down in the armchair farthest from Potter. "I've found that Hufflepuffs are generally better at this sort of thing."

Potter shook his head dumbly.

Fine, then. If the boy chose to confide his problems to a Slytherin- _the_ Slytherin, really-then Severus washed his hands of it. "Why did you wish to speak with me about your nightmares?" Because right now, it seemed like a pretty bad idea.

"M-Madam Pomfrey s-said that if I could O-O-Occlude, it might help." The boy took a sip of his water, somewhat desperately.

Severus stared at him without pity. "It might help you sleep. It won't help you come to terms with your demons."

The boy shuddered and made an odd noise. "Any other ideas?" he asked.

Severus studied the boy. "What do you dream about?" he asked, for the second time that night.

Potter closed his eyes as tears spilled down his cheeks, but he answered in a level voice: "Killing. Killing Ron. Killing Hermione. Raping Ginny. Enjoying. All of it."

The flat tone almost took Severus's breath away. "How many murders did you witness through the Dark Lord's eyes?" Because there had to have been some; the Dark Lord had murdered so many. But as far as Severus knew, the Dark Lord had never raped anyone-but he wasn't ready to ask that question.

Potter shrugged and looked at Severus. "I was him when he did it, you know. I felt what he felt."

"How many?" Severus repeated.

"I...I dunno."

"Estimate."

"Er...twenty? Maybe thirty." The boy wiped his face.

Christ. Severus didn't have anything to say to that.

"The first few-they were detached from me, not like I was doing it. It wasn't until fifth year, really, that it was...it was me."

"That part of you is gone, you realize?"

Unexpectedly, the boy threw his glass across the room. It shattered against the stone wall, and Severus fought against his flinch.

Potter yelled, "But I still lived it, Severus! I have the memories of it-all of it-right here!" He rapped his knuckles on his temples, quite mad. "How can you say that it's not part of me anymore?"

Severus raised his eyebrow and took another sip of his own water, projecting a calm that he did not feel. Eventually he spoke. "Because you are no longer a Parselmouth."

The boy laughed, almost a scream. "Yes, I lost the abilities but kept the memories-that's just grand."

"Who was the last person you saw murdered by the Dark Lord?"

Potter looked at him for a long moment, suddenly calm again. "You," he said.

Severus breathed very carefully and didn't respond.

"I tried to stay out of his head...I knew what he was going to do...but he was so _angry_ and it pulled at me like a...like a magnet...and so it was easier, in the end, to let myself slip inside his mind and just...go along with it."

"Is that what this is all about?" Severus asked quietly. "You trying to atone?"

"What?"

"Coming by here, thanking me. Bringing bottles of mead."

"What? No! I mean-no!"

A part of Severus even believed the boy. "Now tell me: how many people have you murdered-on your own, with your own wand?"

The boy seemed to crumple a bit. He mumbled something.

"Speak up if you have something to say," Severus said.

"I said, I don't need a wand to kill people."

"Fine, then. How many people did you murder by your own will?"

"By my own choices?"

"Not the same thing."

"But still, it's someone whose murder I am responsible for."

Severus snorted. "Potter, I am trying to make a comparison. Pick a reason for your murders: your will, or your choices. I assure you, I will have you beat, by any measure."

Potter looked at him, slightly horrified. "I-I'd rather not say, then."

"I have murdered three people by my own will. By my choices, I have murdered _dozens_ of others, including your parents. Still, I usually sleep well, because I have learned to Occlude- _properly_ -which means that I am able to deny my emotions at will. Does that make me better than you? Does that make you better than me? Do you wish to be more like me?"

Potter was crying again, which Severus found unforgivable. He looked away in disgust.

"You didn't-" the boy choked, "-you didn't kill my mum, Severus."

Severus stood abruptly. "It's time for you to leave."

Potter surprised him by nodding. "I know," he whispered. "Can I just...have a moment to pull myself together?"

 _You'll need more than a moment_ , Severus thought, but didn't say it, and left for his own bedroom in silence. He closed the door, locked it, and warded it for sound.

The next morning, he found Potter asleep on his couch. The shattered glass had been repaired and was sitting on a table. Severus filled the glass with water and left for the Great Hall.

He had just seated himself for breakfast when Ronald Weasley approached him at the head table. "Listen," he said, "I don't want to accuse you of murdering Harry, but did you murder Harry? Because if you didn't, then he's missing."

And with that, Severus knew that Potter had not confided in his friends; had he done so, Weasley would not have been so flippant about murder.

Severus told the young man, "The last time I saw Potter, he was asleep on my couch. I regret that I didn't check to see if he was still breathing."

"Oh, good," Weasley said. "I didn't want to tell Hermione. Can I have the password to your rooms?"

Severus didn't even bother to glare. "No," he said, giving the word about three syllables.

"Erm...I guess I'll go knock then," he said.

"You do that," Severus said, but Weasley had already walked out of earshot.

It was a rainy morning, and he was first to arrive at the greenhouses-which were actual physical greenhouses, not just a location on the grounds. He pulled all the seeds for plants that could be used in calming draughts and the like, and went into greenhouse two to start planting them, slowly and methodically. These plants required much more singing, and more elaborate songs, than the average plant, and Severus found himself lost in melodies. He sang three lullabies and two ballads to a single lavender seed. It had already sprouted by the time he put it aside.

At some point, he looked up and noticed that Longbottom and Lovegood were both working in greenhouse one. He was glad they weren't bothering him today.

After lunch, Miss Lovegood joined him in greenhouse two, and sat working next to Severus. Longbottom stayed in greenhouse one.

Severus found that he didn't mind her company. She didn't insist on talking, and her slightly breathy soprano voice didn't warble when she sang to her own plantings.

He didn't know when he started crying. He hadn't done that for weeks-he wiped his cheeks and tried to carry on-but he suddenly found that he couldn't sing to his newly planted hellebore.

Miss Lovegood, he noticed, had stopped singing, too. "Harry expects you to understand him," she said conversationally. "He doesn't know that what he wants to talk about is hard for you, too. He's trying, though."

There was something about the girl that made him believe that she was incapable of teasing. So he wiped his tears and asked her, "Did he talk to you about this?"

"Oh, no. Harry doesn't talk to anybody, really, other than you."

He snorted. "That's Potter's mistake, then."

"No, he chose well. He knows you'll get better with practice." She patted his arm.

"I doubt practice will help. People are incomprehensible."

"People are easy. They all want the same thing, they just want it from different people. Harry, for example, thinks of you like a father."

Severus frowned at her. "He tried to kiss me."

"Well, he was probably confused. He's never really had a father, and he's not very good at it."

He nodded. "And Longbottom?"

"Oh, Neville's homosexual, you know-he wants to be your lover."

"Oh," he said, because there was really nothing else to say.

Miss Lovegood picked up Severus's newly planted hellebore and started singing a love song to it. He recognized it as one of Celestina Warbeck's. When she finished, he asked her, "And you?"

She smiled at him. "It's hard to know oneself," she said, and started to sing "Odo the Hero" to the plant.

Severus had never heard the song in the soprano register before.


	6. Chapter 6

Potter wisely didn't approach him for the rest of the week, but as Severus continued his work in the greenhouses, he found himself thinking about the boy's nightmares. His nightmares and his memories-one and the same. He wondered if the boy had told Granger and Weasley about them yet.

He wondered if Potter really had witnessed the Dark Lord raping anyone-a terrible thought, and Severus couldn't decide if it was impossible or if it must have happened.

He wondered how the boy slept.

He avoided looking at Potter in the Great Hall during meals. He hoped Potter returned the favor-crying in the greenhouse the other day seemed to have knocked something loose inside of him, and he was back to crying at meals fairly regularly. Anything could trigger it. Pomona once handed over a bowl of green beans and said, "Green beans, Severus?"-and, overcome by her kindness, he cried. Another time, Minerva said, "The Board of Governors meets at the end of next week,"-and, overwhelmed by changes outside of his control, he cried.

Meanwhile, he worked alongside Longbottom and Miss Lovegood to finish construction on the greenhouses. The work didn't seem to get any easier, but it did become quicker. Miss Lovegood received copper sheets from her father and spent an entire day constructing two-inch spikes and affixing them along all the greenhouse roofs. When she had finished, even Severus thought the greenhouses looked exquisite-and, stunned that there was still beauty to be found in such mundane things, he cried.

He tried to clear his mind, but for some reason, Potter's memories would invade his own. He remembered seeing Cedric Diggory's death through Potter's eyes. Potter had felt responsibility, and guilt, and self-loathing-just for having witnessed it. What must it be like for the boy to remember casting the actual curse-twenty, perhaps thirty times? Potter needed to learn to Occlude, for his own mental state. Severus even considered seeking out the boy to offer lessons, but Potter was already so much like a lost puppy. If Severus invited his company even once, the boy might never leave.

Instead, he invited Minerva to his office for tea, and asked her to show him how she used the Pensieve to learn his healing charm.

"I knew you must have an ulterior motive," she grumbled, and put down her teacup. "Tell me, Severus: why the sudden interest?"

"I merely thought I should know how."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you trying to learn something, or teach something?"

"Teach something," he said, with false reluctance. He'd already prepared for her curiosity.

"Teach what to whom?"

Severus sighed. "Poppy has told some of her patients that learning to Occlude will help them when they can no longer take Dreamless Sleep. As I appear to be the resident expert..." He tilted his head and looked directly at Minerva. The best way to lie was always to tell the truth.

Minerva studied him, and he thought he'd gotten away with it until she spoke. "Severus...you are recovering from an awful experience. And I can't judge you for it-it's not against any rules or even strictly unethical-but...you and Harry Potter...are you two..."

Severus spluttered; he didn't mean for her to come to _that_ conclusion. "No! Merlin, no!"

"Fine, then. Are you trying to teach Occlumency to Potter?"

Severus went on the offensive. "Have you heard anything from the Gryffindor portraits lately, Minerva?" She frowned, and he continued. "The boy is drowning, Minerva. Occlumency can help him."

"Like it's helped you?"

"What did you say?"

"Occlumency, Severus-has it helped you?"

He looked at her coldly. "Immeasurably."

She snorted. "So much so that you don't even understand why you've been crying lately! You can't just cut off all emotions, Severus, and teaching other people to do so is a mistake!"

That filthy hypocrite. He blinked and asked her, "How much time have you been spending as a cat lately, Minerva?" She looked at him sharply, and he dipped into her mind, looking. "Ah yes," he said when he found it. "It's a fine way to avoid your own nightmares, isn't it? Curled up by the hearth, dispassionate-uncaring of the world's problems."

She trembled with fury, but he didn't back down. When she spoke, her words were like broken glass. "I'm not a cat now. I'm dealing with my problems now. What about you-are you Occluding now?"

"I am. You and I have our escapes, Minerva. The boy has none. He feels everything, all the time."

"Severus, you fool. There are escapes, there are crutches, and then there are cages. You need to learn the difference."

Severus was very much ready for this conversation to be over, but he still didn't have what he needed from her. "Are you going to show me how to use the Pensieve or not?"

"I don't need to show you anything. When you're in the memory, just step inside the person's head."

"What?"

"Here," she said furiously, and pulled a strand of memory out of her head and put in the the Pensieve. "First step inside the memory, then step inside my head." And she shot him a look and turned to leave. "I'll leave you to it, then. I'll stop by for my memory tomorrow morning, shall I?"

When she was gone, he locked the door behind her. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid of what she'd left him. "Don't let anyone in the office," he told the portraits, and stuck his head in the Pensieve. But in the memory, Minerva stood in front of the fireplace in her quarters, looking stony. She was quite alone. He could see out a window in her sitting room that the greenhouses were still completely destroyed, all burnt plants and broken glass.

He waited for Minerva to do something-anything that would explain why she chose this memory, but all she did was close her eyes and turn into a cat.

Severus withdrew from the Pensieve, with a thrill of foreboding. What had Minerva meant by choosing a memory of turning into a cat, when Severus had been taunting her for it? Her only reason was surely to make him regret what he had said. But if he didn't see the memory again, as she intended for him to do, then she would have the upper hand. He took a deep breath and went back in to the memory.

This time, he stood very close to the Minerva in the memory, and touched his forehead to her temple.

And suddenly he _felt_ things.

Fred Weasley's funeral. Fred Weasley's funeral had just been today. Molly and Arthur-and George-and all of them, really, who were like her own children, and Fred was dead and _there is still so much fucking work to be done_ and she was so tired and suddenly she was choking on her own inability to do _anything_ , and there was a tightness in her chest that made it almost impossible to breathe and _this isn't helping anything, Minerva, get a hold of yourself_ , and she centered herself and _reached_ inside, somewhere near her heart, and turned herself inside out and _the fire is warm_ and _I can deal with tomorrow if I can sleep now,_ and the gray tabby curled into a tight ball and closed its eyes.

Severus fell out of the Pensieve and kept falling until he landed on his arse on the floor.

It took him a few moments to catch his breath. "That was easy," he decided out loud.

But that night he again dreamed he was the snake. "Severus...please..." Minerva said. And he felt her desperation and hopelessness even as he sank his fangs into her neck, killing her.

* * *

She stopped by his office before breakfast the next morning as promised. "Did you find my memory helpful?" she asked him, with just a touch of spite.

Well, he understood the Pensieve better, now. He had no idea what to make of Minerva. So he said, "I don't understand why you chose it, Minerva."

She sat down, and he groaned. He didn't particularly want to have a conversation about this, whatever it was.

She said, "Why don't you tell me why you think I chose it, you emotionally stunted fool."

"I wasn't lying when I said I didn't understand," he snapped. "I do sometimes tell the truth, you know."

"Well, why wouldn't I show you that memory?"

He scoffed. "Why wouldn't you show me that I was right, and the occasional escape from reality is, in fact necessary? -Because I seem to remember that you disagreed strongly with that point of view."

"Oh! 'Occasional escape,' he says." She glared at him and he glared right back.

"Severus..." she finally said, and looked away. "You haven't been managing, lately. You cry at mealtimes often, and for no apparent reason. And yet you still hold yourself apart from everyone." She looked up at him, as if making sure he was still listening. He was speechless, frozen-and she seemed to take encouragement from that. "I showed you that memory to show you that...whatever you're feeling, you're not alone. All of us are feeling...overwhelmed."

He _would not_ cry. Despite what the woman thought, Minerva's regrets did not match his own. He clenched his jaw and forced his feelings down; down like he always did, but it was a bit like an overstuffed suitcase. He _forced_ it, with all his might, and said in a perfectly level voice, "Thank you for your concern, Minerva."

Minerva stood up. "It's obvious when you're doing it, you know," she said quietly, and left his office.

* * *

Severus spent some time over the next few days trying to think of an appropriate memory to demonstrate proper Occlumency methods to Potter. He quickly decided to create a new memory, rather than using something from his past. All he needed to do was start from an ordinary relaxed state, and then Occlude his thoughts, and then show the memory of how he accomplished this to Potter.

It disturbed him when this proved impossible. When he tried to relax his thoughts, too many emotions and memories came at him at once ( _Snivellus_ - _they put their faith in the wrong person, rather like you, Severus_ - _COWARD_ - _Severus...please..._ ), so he pushed them all immediately down, and was left gasping where he sat.

He put the memory of this failure in the Pensieve, just to see if he was on the right track, but even without dipping into his own mind-just looking at the memory of himself, sitting in a chair, face contorted, crying, gasping for breath-the scene was horrifying.

He considered repeating the experiment in a completely dark room, but dismissed the idea as ridiculous, and decided it was time for bed.

* * *

At the end of the week, Potter knocked on the door to his quarters at precisely eight o'clock. Severus opened the door and said, "Back for more, I see," and walked into his sitting room, assuming Potter would follow him inside and close the door behind him.

Severus conjured a glass of water and settled himself in for a long night.

Potter, however, only followed him as far as the doorway to the sitting room, and remained standing there.

Severus sipped his water and waited.

"When you said three, were you counting Dumbledore?" the boy blurted.

Severus frowned. "Come again?"

"You said you'd murdered three people by your will. Does that count Dumbledore?"

Of all the opening lines Potter could have come up with, that was, perhaps, the most asinine. "Yes of course it counts Dumbledore," he said acidly.

"You shouldn't. Dumbledore chose that, not you."

Severus growled. He had no wish to discuss this. "Dumbledore chose it, yes, but I chose it, too. The Killing Curse rather necessitates that."

"But you wouldn't have done it if Dumbledore hadn't told you to."

Severus breathed in and out calmly, twice. "Have you told Weasley and Miss Granger about your nightmares?"

"Don't change the subject. Do you know what we were doing-Dumbledore and I-that night just before you...on the Astronomy Tower? We were trying to fetch a Horcrux, but it was a fake. But to get at it, Dumbledore drank poison." The boy made a somewhat strangled noise and corrected himself: "No, Dumbledore asked me to feed him poison. He made me _promise_. And I did. He was already dying when you...that night. Because of me-because of what I did. Because I did what he asked me to do."

"What is your point, Potter?"

"That if you count Dumbledore as one of your murders, then I have to, too."

"Don't be melodramatic."

"And one other thing: do you Occlude all the time?"

Severus scowled. "Did Minerva put you up to this?"

This actually made Potter stop for a few moments, with a look of utter confusion on his face. "McGonagall? What?" Severus shook his head slightly and Potter continued. "I was just thinking about how you said that you could block emotions at will, and...I-I just don't think that's good."

Severus took another sip of his water. He could not remember a time when Harry Potter had been more annoying than he was at this moment. He would do anything to get the boy to leave.

"Occlumency will help you sleep," he said, as if offering a fine wine. "I can teach you how, if you wish."

He still hadn't worked out an appropriate memory to show the boy, but he was sure he wouldn't need one for tonight. Indeed, the look of distaste that crossed Potter's face was nearly comical. But the boy remained rooted to his spot in the doorway. "Severus, I'm messed up. I know that. I'm trying to work through it. But you-you're messed up, and I don't think you even know it."

"How are you sleeping-any more nightmares?"

"Yes, of course. But I did tell Ron about them, and he's been pretty good about it. Except..."

"Except what?"

"Well-I mean-I didn't tell him about my dreams about Ginny. I mean, that's just not on."

Which led to Severus's other question he'd been wondering all week. "Did you ever witness the Dark Lord raping anyone?"

Potter wrinkled his nose. "No-I never got the impression that he...worked like that. I mean..." The boy shifted uncomfortably, and Severus didn't look directly at him. Potter wanted to tell the story, and he would do so when he found the words. Indeed, the pause that followed was relatively short, considering what the boy said next. "I...he-Voldemort-got a hard-on every time he cast the Cruciatus Curse, but as soon as someone stood too close to him, he'd lose it."

Severus froze, and tried to continue breathing normally. How could Potter still be functioning, when he'd spent that much time inside the madman's head? The boy was still tripping over his pronouns. Potter couldn't learn Occlumency fast enough.

"You must see how much it would help you to close your mind to these memories."

Potter actually rolled his eyes at him. "I can't ignore it, Severus. I can't pretend I didn't see what I saw."

"For Merlin's sake, it's not ignoring or pretending. It's a matter of separating yourself from it."

"Look, we're different, I get that. But I'm trying to work through all this shit. Sure, I'm pretty messed up now, but maybe one day I'll be better. But you-you have a lot of shit, too, you know, but you're not working through it, and maybe you're okay now, but I don't think that's...honest...and I think that maybe one day-you won't be okay, anymore."

Severus listened to the boy's entire speech with mounting rage, although he was sure he kept his outward appearance calm. "Oh, open honesty, is that it?" he hissed. "When do you plan to tell Miss Weasley that you raped her in your dreams and enjoyed it? The next time you make love, perhaps? Is that Gryffindor pillow talk?"

Potter covered his face with his hands. "You really are an insufferable prick, you know that?"

"I presume you already knew that when you confided in me."

"You know what?" Potter said, as he brought his hands back down and glared at Severus, and Severus hoped he'd be leaving. But instead, the boy continued, "Fine. Let's talk about Ginny. We haven't had sex since I had that nightmare. She knows I'm pretty messed up, though-she's working through some things of her own, too-so we haven't talked, specifically, about why it's not...working right now. But you know what? We've got time, and we talk about some things. We...got together, I guess you'd say-way too soon after the battle was over, but we know that now. By the way, I told her about kissing you, and you know what? She told me that she'd kissed Malfoy the day he left Hogwarts. We're both...kind of...all over the place, but we still talk and we're still friends, and who knows? But right now, we're both just trying to find some solid ground. So stop throwing Ginny in my face."

"Potter, you're not just handing me weapons-you're giving me the keys to your armory."

Potter made a noise in his throat, something between a scream and a groan. "Severus, even if you were my enemy, you couldn't use anything I've said as a weapon unless I let you."

Severus frowned. That had almost been profound, but remained an empty boast, surely. He took it as a challenge. "So, what was the sequence of events: Miss Weasley kissed Draco, you kissed me, then you and Miss Weasley had sex?"

"Not quite, but I don't think that's any of your business."

"And now you're having difficulties maintaining an erection?"

"Oh _god_." Potter looked at him, horrified, but his features quickly settled into a fierce scowl. "I know you're just trying to push me away, and it won't work. And by the way, you were not responsible for my parents' deaths."

"Oh, for-"

"And you shouldn't be surprised that people want to be your friend, despite the fact that you can be the world's biggest berk."

"Thus speaketh the hero of the Wizarding world," he said with exaggerated gravity, and then he mimicked a false little bow as best he could while still sitting down. "Thank you, Harry Potter."

"Fuck you. 'Thus speaketh' the boy who slept in the cupboard under the stairs when he was a kid-who didn't have a friend in the world until he was eleven. Just because some people treated you like shit doesn't mean you deserve to be treated like shit."

And Severus did not have a response to that. So he scowled.

Potter shifted where he stood. "Look, thanks for the offer to teach me Occlumency, properly. Thanks for not trying to dig in my mind to prove that I need it."

Severus hadn't even thought to do so-maybe he really was going mad.

The boy continued, "I'm sorry I don't want to do things that way. Maybe it's mental, but I just...think I'll get on better by dealing with shit instead of repressing it. And you should think about what I said." He nodded, and let himself out of Severus's rooms.

* * *

In the greenhouses the next day, Severus worked with Longbottom while Lovegood was off in search of blue-green glimpers. Longbottom nodded at her explanation and wished her good luck, and Severus shot the boy a look. Longbottom just shrugged. After Miss Lovegood left, the boy said, "If you want to ask her, you can, but I've found it's best if you just go along with it."

"Hmph," Severus said.

They watered their plantings, and shuffled some of them around so they could be closer to their cousins or farther from their enemies, and tested the acidity of soil to make sure everything was being maintained at the proper levels, and sang to some of them that needed it-although it was a touchy time for the young plants, as some of them required waltzes and others ballads and still others needed anything except waltzes or ballads. They made notes of those seeds which still hadn't sprouted so that they could replant them. By the time they finished these things, it was nearly lunchtime. Longbottom flopped down on the only bench in greenhouse three, and Severus sat down next to him.

Minding the plants was a gargantuan task, and the greenhouses were still fairly sparse with plants. After all, they'd only planted those seeds which they had been able to find, and not all plants that had been destroyed had been seeding at the time. There were some plants that flowered in late summer, others in the fall, and others even more sporadically. False Mugwart, for example, only flowered under the Harvest Moon in odd-numbered years. They would have to order these seeds from other herbologists when they became available.

But Severus hoped to be gone from Hogwarts, by then.

He rested next to Longbottom for several minutes, until Severus finally asked, "Did you volunteer for this job, or was it really Professor Sprout's idea?"

"Well, she asked if I wanted to help and I jumped at the chance. And then she told me you'd be in charge. And it wasn't till later that I realized it was just you and me."

"And yet you stayed."

"Yes, well. If it had been you and Professor Trelawney, I'd have given it a pass for sure."

"I wonder why I was not enough to scare you off by myself."

Longbottom did not have an answer ready, so Severus waited. "You've always acted like a git," the young man said carefully. "But I realized that you'd never let anyone really know you. I thought it was worth a try."

It was so simple and so stupid that Severus didn't know why it made tears leak out of his eyes. Longbottom wasn't looking at him, so Severus wiped his face quickly and hoped the boy didn't notice.

"I..." Severus needed to say it, but it was almost impossible to form his mouth around the words. "I'm sorry if I've been...uneven."

"Unbalanced, I think you mean," Longbottom said with a smile, but stopped when he turned and saw the look on Severus's face. "Look, everyone's been off lately. My gran says that mourning is always two steps forward and three steps back. And I figure if we're all mourning, then any forward progress is...nice. And look at what we've done." He smiled again, looking at the greenhouse around them, with all the seedlings just beginning to sprout.

Severus looked around, at all the new life and new hope that surrounded him, and didn't know if it was symbolic or ironic. Were the plants springing to new life while his own life withered away? A sob escaped his chest, and then another, and suddenly Longbottom was sitting right next to him and rubbing his shoulder.

"It's okay," the boy whispered, and Severus leaned forward with his head in his hands, and cried his heart out in greenhouse three.

He didn't know how long he cried, but when he sat up, Longbottom offered him a handkerchief and a glass of water in succession. Severus nodded his thanks, incapable of verbal replies just yet.

When he finally could speak, he said, "I need to get away from here."

Longbottom nodded. "Too many bad memories, I know."

"I _never_ wanted to be a teacher."

Longbottom choked slightly. "Good, because you were rubbish at it."

Severus ignored this. "My resignation isn't up until the end of June."

"Where do you plan to go after that?"

"I don't...I don't care." He could go back to Spinner's End. The house was still his. But even the thought of it was grim. He wondered how much he could sell the place for.

"Can you make a living selling potions?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead, actually. He could brew for an apothecary, he supposed. Perhaps he could settle in London, or anywhere, really, and do everything by owl-order. He looked at Longbottom. "Is this my scheduled appointment for Career Advice?"

"I'm sure I could find some Ministry brochures for you," Longbottom said, without missing a beat.

"I...hadn't planned to survive the war. I never thought about what would come after."

Longbottom got quiet for a while. Severus should have found that ominous, for when the boy spoke again, he started the most horrifying speech Severus had ever heard.

"You know," the young man said, "Harry inherited a house from his godfather. And he's been wanting to get away from Hogwarts, as well, but he says he doesn't want to live alone. But Ron wants to go back to his parents' place, at least for now, because he says that's where he belongs. Harry's been trying to get me to move in with him, but I want to live on my own for a bit, see what that's like." Longbottom paused and looked at Severus hopefully.

Severus said, "I sincerely hope that I'm wrong about the next sentence out of your mouth."

"No-you should think about it! It would be good for both of you!"

Suddenly, Severus couldn't think of a single good reason to sell off Spinner's End. Why wouldn't he want to live there, really? It had everything he ever wanted in a home. It had a roof, a bathroom, a kitchen, and it didn't have Harry Potter. "I have a home," he said. "I'll move there."

"Where is it?" Longbottom asked.

"Cokeworth."

Longbottom frowned. "I've never heard of it. Is it Muggle, then?"

"Yes, it's Muggle." Longbottom looked at him oddly, so Severus said, "It was my house growing up. My father's house."

Longbottom looked away. "Huh." he said. "I didn't know."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable for Severus, but when Longbottom spoke again, he seemed perfectly at ease. "Why didn't you want to move there?"

"Who says I didn't want to move there?"

"Well, when I asked where you wanted to go after Hogwarts, you didn't say 'Cokeworth' right away. Why not?"

"I'm not thinking clearly at the moment. Emotional upheaval." He waved his hand.

"Are your parents still alive, then?"

"No."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Was your mother Muggle, too?"

"No."

"Oh. Did you like living in Cokeworth when you were a kid?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, why do you want to move back there, now?"

Severus looked at Longbottom, annoyed. "Because it is isolated from teenagers."

But Longbottom just grinned at him and stood up. "Let's go for some lunch, then," he said.

* * *

Longbottom spent all week and the next pestering Severus about Spinner's End-asking about his childhood, his parents, about growing up in a Muggle town, about Cokeworth in particular. The young man had obviously told Potter about Severus's future plans as well, because suddenly Potter was lobbying very strongly for Severus to move into Grimmauld Place. Severus had no qualms about crushing Potter's hopes on this count, but the boy seemed undeterred by this reaction, almost as if he'd expected it.

"Why don't you have Miss Weasley move in with you?" Severus asked him wearily.

Potter looked disappointed in Severus. "It's a little early for that. Besides, she needs to be with her mum and dad right now."

"What about Ronald Weasley, or Miss Granger, or any of your countless little friends?"

Potter sighed. "Ron's moving back to the Burrow, too, and under the circumstances it's the right choice. He said I could move back there, too, but...no. That wouldn't be right for me. Hermione's leaving soon for Australia to get her mum and dad, and she thinks it's best if she goes alone. She doesn't know how long it will take. George isn't right, yet, and I think we're a little too messed up for each other, anyway. I've even thought about what you said about Hufflepuff friends, and I almost asked Justin Finch-Fletchley if he wouldn't mind living at Grimmauld Place...but at some point it all starts to reek of desperation, you know?"

Severus nodded, slowly and pointedly. "It does at that," he said, but Potter didn't seem to understand the insult. Severus sighed and continued, "Why don't you stay at Hogwarts, then?"

Potter shook his head. "No. It's fine for now, but...for the long term, it feels like too much of a step backwards. I need to move on, and this isn't the place for me to do it."

Severus could relate, so he didn't comment further.

* * *

He kept watch over the list Pomona had given him, weeks before, showing the names of everyone who slept and worked at Hogwarts. Towards the end of June, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger both changed from overnight residents to day workers, and a few days later, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom did the same. Then Hermione Granger's name disappeared from the list altogether. No one seemed alarmed by this, so Severus assumed that she'd gone off to Australia, as Potter had mentioned.

Meanwhile, he cleared out his office and finally went through some of his old cabinets that he'd moved up from the dungeons without once examining their contents. The cabinets were full of old student papers-some dated from 1983-why on earth had he kept those? He incinerated them all without a second thought.

He also packed up everything he would take with him. This amounted to remarkably little: some books, a favorite teacup, some clothing, some personal items. It took up two small boxes and one suitcase.

* * *

On 29 June, Severus got an owl from the Board of Governors, informing him that Pomona Sprout would be replacing him as headmistress. He read it over twice before he understood, then looked at Pomona, who was reading a letter of her own. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with shock. "Severus," she whispered. "I-didn't-"

"What does yours say?" Severus asked, unwilling to be the one to spring the news on her.

"I'm...head. They picked me."

"Did you put in for the job?"

"Well, yes, but only because there was no harm in it-I thought for sure they could find someone better."

Severus felt his face stretch into a smile. "Pomona, there is no one better for the job than you. Congratulations."

Just then, two more owls landed in front of her. "Oh, Merlin," she said. "What have I got myself into?"

He cocked his eyebrow at her, but didn't answer her question. Instead he said, "Shall I call a staff meeting for later this morning to make the announcement, then?" She groaned, and he went on, "Or I could make a general announcement now." He made to stand up, and she reached out a hand to stop him.

"No, please, let's do a staff meeting," she said. One of the owls in front of her bit her ear, and she said, "Oh, sorry there, chap, let's see what you've got then." She untied the letter from the owl's leg and skimmed over it. "It's from a parent complaining about her child not taking O.W.L.s this year," she said, slightly bewildered. She held up the letter and asked, "Is this...normal?"

"Perhaps," he said.

"Have other parents complained?"

"A few."

"How many?"

"Well, we had fifty-eight students on the roster for fifth year this year, which included one set of twins, and you just got that letter-from Mrs. Hansford, I see-she was slow off the line-now I see where her son gets it-so I'm almost certain I got fifty-six."

"What-what did you tell the parents?"

"I sent a Ministry pamphlet on how to detect spell damage in children."

She studied him for a moment, as if to gauge if he was joking. He wasn't-and he hadn't heard back from any of the parents, either.

Pomona finally asked, "How hard is this job?"

"It...wasn't the worst job I ever had to do."

"Oh, Merlin, Severus. That's not comforting."

Which was just as well, because Severus had lied when he said it.

* * *

Pomona's promotion was warmly received at the staff meeting, and Pomona herself seemed to have gotten more used to the idea. Severus, Minerva, and Filius stayed afterwards to congratulate her personally. Severus summoned a house elf to fetch a small bottle of wine.

"I'm so glad they chose you, Pomona-it's the best thing they could have done," Minerva said.

Pomona smiled and said, "I put in for the position and I have a pulse. So I guess that means I met all of their requirements." Minerva snorted, and Pomona looked around the room, but only the four of them remained. Pomona said in a low voice, "I'm not kidding-Augusta Longbottom just owled me that the only other applicant was Sherman Binns."

They gaped at her, thunderstruck, and then Minerva and Filius looked at each other guiltily.

"I wasn't brave enough to apply," Minerva admitted.

"I didn't feel that a career change was wise for me," Filius said.

Pomona laughed at them. "Well, when I found out, I was definitely scared stupid. Severus can tell you."

Severus scoffed. "Nonsense, Pomona. It is obvious that you are the smartest, most courageous, and most practical of all of us. You've just never been cunning enough to hide it."

"Cheers, Severus," she laughed, and clinked her glass with his.

Minerva and Filius toasted her as well, and Severus thought he should say something about his term as headmaster-to thank them for their forgiveness and acceptance-but his throat closed around his words, and the moment passed.

It was just as well.

He woke up early the next day, and left the castle before the sun rose, thus avoiding any ceremonies or speeches that may have been planned by the others. He didn't want to speak to anyone; he didn't want to see anyone. He took the Knight Bus to Cokeworth and walked three blocks to Spinner's End. Dawn was barely coloring the sky by the time he stepped through his front door.


	7. Chapter 7

Spinner's End was not a nice place, but that had never bothered Severus. However, at the moment Spinner's End was not a comfortable place, and for the first time, that did bother him.

The comforts the house had provided were always minimal, and Severus had been grateful for every amenity. It had running water, at least, and the kitchen had enough pots and pans and dishes and silverware to be getting on with. There was enough room to store all his clothes and shoes, but he had never had an extensive wardrobe. The towels and blankets were a bit worn, but he had purchased new sheets the previous summer while in a funk of self-loathing. (He could live in exile from all his colleagues; he could live with the guilt of murder; he could live with no certainty of the future; but the musty, yellowed, and badly pilled sheets had nearly broken him.)

The major drawback to Spinner's End was the complete and utter lack of potions equipment. For his entire professional career, Severus had access to one of the best-stocked potions labs in Britain, and he had never found himself wanting for anything. But now he was a Potions Master without a cauldron. He didn't even have his standard size 2 pewter cauldron from his student days-that had been an early casualty of his teaching career and he never saw the need to buy another one of his own. Hogwarts had a wide selection of well-kept pewter cauldrons of all sizes, as well as all sizes of brass, silver, copper, stone, and gold cauldrons.

And the potions stores he'd once had access to-containing everything from armadillo bile to zebra hair, from aniseed to zinnia pollen-and now he had nothing. He did find a bit of dried parsley in one of the kitchen cupboards, but parsley wasn't used in any serious potions, and besides, the bit he'd found had been stored in a plastic container and was therefore useless.

He'd spent two months working on greenhouses, but now he'd be hard-pressed to produce a single mint leaf.

He'd always been frugal with his money because he'd never led an extravagant lifestyle. After all, he'd lived almost four decades on the earth and hadn't yet purchased a single albino peacock-which couldn't be said for some of his peers. But even so, all of his savings weren't enough to cover the expense of setting up a full potions lab in Spinner's End-not while he still needed to eat every once in a while. And he refused to borrow money, not without a guaranteed income.

And, more pressing, he was hungry at the moment, and Spinner's End was devoid of anything edible, aside from the parsley and salt and pepper. Resigning himself to his fate, Severus went shopping for groceries. He bought dried beans and a bag of rice because there was a chance he'd cook it, but he also bought cheese and crackers because he knew he'd eat it. He also bought some fresh fruit because he felt he probably should. He would have liked to buy a bag of crisps, but one bag cost £3, and he couldn't bring himself to pay that much.

He went back to his home, unpacked his groceries, and ate the cheese and crackers. He wished he had spent the money and bought the crisps.

But he first needed pewter cauldrons of all sizes. Of course, there wasn't a potion that couldn't be brewed in a pewter cauldron, but potions that one planned to sell needed to be better than the kind brewed by schoolchildren. Different materials brought out different ingredients-made them more potent, or made them last longer, or store better. Dreamless sleep needed to be brewed in a silver cauldron, and bruise balm needed to be brewed in brass. And Wolfsbane, which had a very high profit margin, needed to be brewed in stone. Skelegrow required a copper cauldron.

But perhaps he could make modifications of ingredients and brew passable potions in pewter, at least until he established himself.

He looked for a quill and parchment, but found a pen and paper first. He started to make a list of all the different potions that could be made with each cauldron. He intended to use the list to prioritize which cauldrons he should buy first, but instead he got lost in his thoughts. He didn't realize this until someone knocked on his front door, and he looked down on his list and found it covered in undignified doodles-curlicues and script "S"s, with his own signature scattered throughout.

He crumpled the paper and answered the door.

It was Potter. Severus shouldn't have been surprised about that, but it still caught him off-guard. The young man was carefully holding a hot casserole dish wrapped in a towel, and smiling uncertainly.

"Hey," the young man said.

Severus sighed. "How did you know my address?" he asked.

"Oh. Erm. Kreacher found out for me. Can I come in? He made a pot roast."

Potter's ability to befriend people from all walks of society-including elves and goblins-was probably what made him such a formidable opponent for the Dark Lord. Unfortunately it didn't bode well for Severus, either. But a pot roast didn't sound like a terrible idea, so Severus bowed to the inevitable and invited Potter in.

The pot roast was surprisingly good, and Severus managed Potter's company by limiting his own responses to grunts and shrugs. It was an oddly liberating strategy, and Severus almost grinned at Potter's consternation. Still, Potter had been at Spinner's End for entirely too long by the time he finally stood up and said, "Tonight's probably not the best night to be bothering you. I'll let you get settled in, then."

The words didn't promise a long reprieve for Severus.

He went shopping for potions supplies the next day, and despite buying only the most basic ingredients (plus a few things that were discounted) and two pewter cauldrons (standard sizes 3 and 5) and one brass (standard size 4)-he still spent over seventy galleons. And when he came home, he realized he'd forgotten powdered ginger root and bicorn hair.

He resolved to make a list for his next trip.

He decided to make a simple pain-relief potion, because it had been nearly two years since he had brewed anything, and he ought to be able to make a pain-relief potion in his sleep. He looked for his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ , but it wasn't with the books he'd brought from Hogwarts. It didn't take him long to remember that Potter had somehow ended up with his copy. He wasn't too worried; Potter would, no doubt, make another appearance soon. He resolved to ask the boy about his book the next time he saw him. He could make a pain-relief potion without consulting a recipe, anyway-but it would have been nice to have some sort of confirmation.

No matter. He brewed an entirely serviceable potion, which was able to relieve the headache he got from his day's misadventures.

Potter, of course, showed up on his doorstep again that night. He brought a steak-and-kidney pie with him, which had never been one of Severus's favorites, and besides, he rarely ate meat two nights in a row. So as he moved aside to let Potter in, Severus asked, "Do you still have my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_?"

Potter looked guilty. "Erm, no. Did you need it?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure I can remember every addendum to every potion in the book-I don't know why I bothered to write any of it down to begin with."

"Oh, Severus, I'm sorry-I hid it in the Room of Requirement." The boy sounded far more contrite than the situation called for, and Severus looked at him blankly.

"Can you not retrieve it from the Room?"

The boy's face fell even further. "N-no. The Fiendfyre, you know. I'm sorry."

Severus froze where he stood. He remembered now-the room had been utterly destroyed, along with everything in it.

Severus had other potions books, of course, but his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ was helpful in brewing all sorts of potions. And he'd kept all his best modifications and variations in there.

It was years of research and experimentation. Gone. More than gone-destroyed by Fiendfyre.

He heard the boy's voice, but the words were vague, indistinct.

"Go," Severus said. "Leave me."

And Potter did.

* * *

But Potter showed up early the next morning, looking like he hadn't slept at all. When Severus saw what he brought, he realized that the boy probably hadn't.

It was the Pensieve, and hours and hours of memories.

"They're mine-my memories of reading your book. I know it's not as good as the book, but I'm pretty sure you can get a good look at all of the pages, anyway, and that's better than nothing. And look-" Potter pulled out another package from his cloak. "I got you a clean copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ so you can write all over it."

Severus didn't know what to say. Potter shifted uneasily.

"I'm really, really sorry," the boy said. "And Professor Sprout said you can keep the Pensieve for as long as you need to-she said she'd owl you if she needed it for anything."

Severus nodded. Potter may have said something more, but Severus didn't hear it. He clutched the book and the bowl full of memories, carefully, as if he might break either one, and when he looked up again, Potter was gone.

He set the Pensieve carefully on the table, and slipped in.

He was pleased to find that he could bring the book and a quill along with him to watch the memories. The scenes contained within were certainly thorough. The boy could spend hours reading Severus's old textbook while lying on his stomach on his bed, with his chin propped on his hands, and his feet in the air. Or reading Severus's old textbook while sprawled in an armchair by the Gryffindor fire, one leg hanging over the arm of the chair. Or reading Severus's old textbook while sitting at a table in the library, chewing on his fingernails.

Christ. Potter's life was _boring_. Severus skipped over large portions of the memories, and six hours later, he'd reclaimed about a third of the text.

He took a short break, and ate some of the steak-and-kidney pie Potter had brought over the night before. Then he went back to the memories.

He'd copied five more pages of notes before it occurred to him that he could slip inside Potter's mind, so he did. But even this was boring: _I wonder why Sagittariuses react better to potions brewed in copper cauldrons_ and _I never thought it mattered so much, the difference between chopping and mincing_ and _Why couldn't Snape have just told us this?_

Not even worth the effort of eavesdropping, really. Behold: the savior of the Wizarding world. Severus shook his head as Potter spat out another mangled fingernail.

But that night, he dreamed that he was still a student, and was in the Slytherin common room with his friend-and it wasn't an exciting dream, but he and his friend were laughing and talking, and Severus woke up with a feeling of warm acceptance. When he tried to remember what his Slytherin friend looked like, he realized it was James Potter.

He was pretty sure it was James, anyway.

The next day, he was able to finish his annotations to _Advanced Potion-Making_ , with only a few missing pages. (Perhaps Potter's memories were incomplete; or perhaps Potter had simply never looked at those pages; or perhaps he _had_ but Severus had skipped over them in his haste. He wasn't willing to watch them all again to check, so he assumed the fault was Potter's.)

That night-the fourth night of Severus's stay at Spinner's End-Potter showed up again, looking haggard and carrying a bag of egg salad sandwiches.

"Egg salad, Potter?" Severus asked, while Potter still waited on the doorstep.

"It was in case you kicked me back out."

Severus didn't know how egg salad would help in that case, but he decided not to ask. He moved aside for Potter, who entered gratefully. The boy gestured to the Pensieve sitting on the small table in the sitting room.

"I hope the memories were helpful to you," he said.

"Yes-and please take the Pensieve back to Pomona. It belongs at Hogwarts."

"Sure, sure. Hey, can you show me how to put memories back in?"

So Severus did, and with very little mocking. They ate their egg salad sandwiches and drank tea and spoke of potions and had a decent evening.

And then Potter asked if he could sleep on the couch. "I won't be any trouble-I don't need anything. You might not even know I'm here."

"No."

Potter's eyebrows sagged, but he persisted: "I'm not asking for anything, really. You can go to bed, or you can stay up and do whatever you do, and I'll just be here, quietly on your couch."

"Maybe I wanted to sit on my couch."

"Oh," Potter said, as if this were the only reasonable objection to his proposal. "Well, I can sleep in the chair, then."

"Potter, go home."

"I-I can't sleep there, Severus. It's too big, and too empty. And too quiet! I'm going mad there."

"Then go be with the Weasleys."

"I tried that last night. It's...Ginny's there-and suddenly Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are Ginny's parents. I mean, that sounds stupid-I know they've always been Ginny's parents, but Gin and I are really careful around each other these days, and being with her parents is a little too-a little too much, really. And it feels like everything I do is an act, and I have to be on my best behavior all the time. And George is there, and Fred is dead, and Hermione's gone to Australia, and the people who aren't there are louder than the people who are."

"None of this is my problem, Potter."

"Please, Severus."

"No."

Somehow, miraculously, Severus won the argument, and Potter left for the night. But he came back the next evening with tomato-basil soup, looking even more haggard than the night before. Severus wondered if the boy had slept in the park.

This time, the boy didn't ask permission. By nine-thirty, he had already curled up on the couch as if it was his birthright. Truthfully, he looked so worn-down that Severus couldn't bring himself to kick the boy out. But he didn't Summon a blanket for the idiot.

Though he may have done so, had the boy requested one.

* * *

It was after midnight when Severus was woken by a commotion downstairs. He rolled over, confused, but the sound of breaking glass made him sit up quickly and pull on his dressing gown. He hurried down the steps to find Potter, still in the throes of his nightmare. He'd somehow managed to knock over a lamp with his thrashing.

"Christ," Severus muttered. He didn't know the best way to wake the boy. Why hadn't Potter woken with the sound of the breaking lamp, and saved Severus from this?

He moved in as close as he dared, avoiding the flailing limbs. "POTTER," he said sharply. "WAKE UP."

The boy's eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly, almost headbutting Severus, who backed out of the way. Potter tried to get off the couch, stumbled, and fell in a heap on the floor. "I couldn't stop it," he cried, and folded into himself and started rocking back and forth. "I couldn't stop it," he repeated, and clutched the crown of his head.

Severus didn't want to witness this, but it didn't feel right to go back to his own room just yet. He compromised by going into the kitchen. When he reached the door, Potter started keening quietly.

Severus stayed in the kitchen until the keening stopped. He waited a few moments, then took a glass of water and walked back to the sitting room. Potter was still on the floor, but he watched Severus with red-rimmed eyes. Severus handed him the glass of water without a word.

Potter took it and croaked, "It was a dream, wasn't it?"

"I've no idea," Severus said. He hesitated, wondering what else there was to say. "Fix the lamp before you go back to sleep."

And he went back upstairs to his own bedroom.

* * *

When Severus woke up the next morning, Potter was still asleep on the couch. Severus made himself tea and toast quietly, and sat at the kitchen table, making notes about how to best brew a Calming Draught without a silver cauldron. He needed to tweak the recipe slightly to make up for the pewter, which dulled the effects of about half the ingredients. He also sent carefully-worded inquiries to apothecaries in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley-as well as to the head Potionologist at St. Mungo's-offering his talents as a Potions Master if they had any interest in purchasing his brews.

Someone knocked on the door at ten o'clock, which finally woke Potter up.

"Wh' time'sit?"

Severus answered him with a glare, and opened the front door.

It was Neville Longbottom. Severus was too dumbfounded to be cross. "How do _you_ know where I live?"

Neville gave him an odd look. "You told me. Hi, Harry."

Severus turned to see Harry standing by the couch, looking awkward and extremely rumpled. "Hi Neville," the boy said thickly, and shifted his feet. "I-er-I slept on the couch, I swear."

"Yeah, I got that," Longbottom said, with a quelling glare.

The exchange made no sense to Severus. He would have understood if Potter had been mortified to be caught sleeping in his former teacher's home-but his tone had been meant to reassure Longbottom. And Longbottom had clearly accepted it as such. Severus put it from his mind.

"Why are you here?" he asked the young man.

"Oh-I brought you a housewarming gift," he said, and held out a brightly-wrapped package.

Severus took the box, and mutely gestured the young man inside his home.

Longbottom said, "This is a nice place you've got," which was a lie.

Severus shrugged. "It's big enough for one person, anyway," he said, and Potter snorted.

They all sat down in the sitting room, and Potter asked, "So, what have you been up to, Neville?"

"Well, Luna and I are still working in the greenhouses, minding all the plants. It's a pretty big job, actually, and we just got a delivery of new seeds the other day, but we'll have to wait to plant them until after the new moon." He smiled and said, "I know it probably sounds boring, but it's rather exciting every time a new plant sprouts up."

"How are you liking your flat?"

"I love it-it's so great to have a space of my own, you know? And my own bathroom!"

"Must be nice," Severus said quietly, and Potter had the good grace to look abashed.

Neville smiled and said, "Go ahead and open your gift, Severus-I can't stand waiting any longer."

Severus looked at the box in his hands. He didn't have much practice at this sort of thing-would he be expected to be grateful for whatever piece of sentimental garbage Longbottom had bought for him? He sighed and tore the paper, and opened the box to find-

A standard size 3 stone cauldron.

He caught his breath. _Wolfsbane. Anti-swelling tincture. Veritaserum._

Longbottom started a stream of nervous babbling. "If you don't need it or don't like it, that's okay. It's just-Professor Sprout suggested it when I asked her what you might need-she said a stone cauldron would be a good bet. I mean, it's probably the wrong size-there were so many to choose from, so I just picked one of the middle-sized ones, and-"

"Neville," Severus said, and locked eyes with the young man. "Thank you."

"Oh," he said, turning slightly pink. "You're welcome."

They stared at each other until Potter cleared his throat. "So, Neville, are you still going to Hogwarts in the fall?"

"Erm-yes. I mean-yes."

There was a pause, and Severus recovered himself from whatever had just happened. "You're going back? To living in a dormitory, sharing a bathroom?" Well, perhaps he hadn't recovered quite as well as he'd hoped-he was usually more eloquent than that.

"No-not there-not living there, I mean. I-I talked to Professor Sprout, and she said that returning seventh years could live outside of Hogwarts. I'm keeping my flat."

"Where-where is your flat?" Why was Severus suddenly a stammering fool? At least Longbottom wasn't faring much better.

"Erm, in Hogsmeade. Just across from the library-there's a quiet little tea shop and I live above it. You should come visit. I mean-" the young man turned bright red. "I think you'd like it, I mean."

Potter had watched the entire exchange, and was starting to color slightly, himself. "What classes are you going to take, Neville?"

"Oh. Er. Just Herbology, Charms, and Ancient Runes."

They all nodded. Potter seemed to have run out of inane questions.

Longbottom finally bit his lips and stood up. "I'm sorry, I don't want to impose. I've been here quite long enough. I hope you like the cauldron, Severus."

"I-yes. It was well-done of you," he said, standing up himself. They looked at each other, and then Severus glanced back at Potter, who was still sitting, staring at the floor, and trying to make himself seem very small.

"I-I'll see you around, then," Neville said, and Severus walked him to the door. He stood there and watched as the young man walked down the front steps and down the street. Longbottom turned and caught him still watching. The young man smiled and gave a little wave.

Severus waved back before he could stop himself. Then he cursed himself a fool, and closed the door firmly and turned back to his sitting room.

Potter stood there, looking anywhere but at Severus. "It's time for me to go," Potter mumbled.

"I should think so, yes."

The boy left, but the morning's events did not prevent him from returning later in the evening, and bringing a blanket with him.

* * *

That night, Potter had another nightmare, of course. When Severus woke him up, the boy pulled his knees up to his chest and sat on the couch, gasping for breath. Severus stared at him for a long while, as Potter tried and failed to get a hold of himself.

Severus started to talk to him, quietly. "Close your eyes and imagine a lake-much like the Black Lake, but you can't see any buildings nearby. An isolated lake in a mountainous region, and it's a calm day and the water is so still and so clear that you could see right down to the bottom of the lake, if you wished to. Can you see the lake, Harry?" Severus used Potter's given name carefully, but the boy didn't seem to notice. He just nodded and kept his eyes closed.

Severus said, "Good, Harry. Keep focused on the lake. Think of nothing but the sunlight reflecting off the water and the fresh air on your cheeks. The clean smell of the isolated mountains. It is silent, silent. When a troubling thought crosses your mind, put it in the lake. It's still there; you can still see it. But it can't touch you, not when it's under the water."

Harry sniffed. "Is this how you clear your mind?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why couldn't you tell me this fifth year?"

"Because in fifth year, you weren't sleeping on my couch, waking me up at all hours of the night."

Harry got quiet and frowned a little bit. "I'm pushing that under the lake," he decided, eyes still closed.

Severus started to stand, but Harry opened his eyes and stopped him. "Severus, wait."

Severus waited.

"Do you ever take things back out of the lake?"

He tried not to groan. "If I say no, I suppose you'll tell me that I should."

"Well, do you ever wish you could take something out of the lake?"

He wished things could get out of the lake without touching him-but it didn't work like that. He wondered how to answer the question. He knew the boy wanted honesty, and perhaps Severus could give a version of the truth. He tried a few phrases in his head, testing the cost of each, and finally said out loud, "At times, I wish the lake wasn't so full, yes." But as he said it, he remembered the cabinets full of student papers from 1983. Perhaps the lake contained older things; things that didn't matter so much anymore but seemed significant at the time.

Harry, for once, was quiet. Severus looked in his lake, careful to keep his distance, and saw something that might be innocuous enough, even if it escaped into the air.

"Your father..." Severus began, and Harry looked at him with wide eyes. "Your father, and Black, and Pettigrew-they all took to calling me 'Snivellus.' I believe you heard Black using that name on one occasion. 'Severus' was never a great name, and I got teased at Muggle primary for it, but I thought that it maybe wasn't such an odd name for a wizard, and that I would fit in once I got to Hogwarts. But almost immediately, I got on the train and those fools started calling me 'Snivellus,' and-Merlin, I hated it. And I hated them, for giving me that name."

"Was...was that in your lake?"

Severus nodded. "It was."

Potter played with the edge of his blanket, and silence stretched between them until the boy finally spoke. "He was just so...thoughtless. I think that's the worst part, that I don't think he meant anything by it-he was just such a casual arsehole." Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry, Severus. I'd like to think he'd apologize, too, if he were here."

Severus shrugged, too.

"So, wait," Potter said. "That lake business-that's not Occluding, is it? It can't be."

Well, at least the boy wasn't a complete idiot. "No, of course not. It's just a method of accomplishing the first step."

"But...what's the next step?"

Severus had no words for the feeling. There was just...a distancing-a freezing-a wrapping up, very tightly...and then the only things that remained with him were the parts he chose. He didn't feel like explaining a difficult mental process, not in the middle of the night, not when he didn't have the right words and Potter wouldn't understand what words he could provide. So instead, he asked, "Do you intend to spend every night here?"

"Nooooo," Harry said, slowly and solemnly.

Severus took that for what it was worth, and thought about his options. Spinner's End was cramped and grim as fuck, in a grim-as-fuck neighborhood in a grim-as-fuck town. If he were to live with Harry Potter, there were, at least, better places to do it. "I'm sure that Grimmauld Place is more comfortable than my couch," he said carefully.

"It's really not," Harry replied quickly.

Severus rolled his eyes and tried again. "I'm sure Grimmauld Place has more than enough room for two people."

"It has more than enough room for twelve people. It's too big for me to live in alone-I can't do it, Severus."

 _Gryffindors_. "That's not what I was suggesting, you dolt."

"Oh," Harry said. "OOOOHHH! Do you want to go back there now, or-?"

"For Christ's sake, Potter, get back to sleep. We'll discuss this in the morning."

But there was really nothing to discuss the next morning. By the time Harry woke up, Severus had already packed two boxes of books, personal items, and shoes, and his suitcase full of clothes, along with another box, full of all the cauldrons and potions ingredients he'd procured over the course of a week. Harry rolled off the couch, rolled up his blanket, and pronounced himself ready, as well.

And just like that, Severus moved in to Grimmauld Place with Harry Potter.


	8. Chapter 8

Grimmauld Place was certainly roomier than Spinner's End. Potter claimed to sleep in a bedroom on the second floor, so Severus took over two adjacent rooms on the third floor. He set up the second room as a potions lab. He began his stay at Grimmauld Place by trying to brew a good Calming Draught in a pewter cauldron. His first attempt was a failure, or perhaps too much of a success. He didn't try it on himself, of course; he slipped a dose into Potter's pumpkin juice at dinner that evening. Potter took one swig of the juice and promptly fell asleep, dropping his head directly into his French onion soup.

"Shit," Severus said, and jumped up and ran around the table, grabbing Harry by the hair and yanking him roughly out of his burning hot soup. "Oh, shit," he said again, when he saw Potter's bright red face. He hadn't made any burn balm yet-he could brew a passable batch tomorrow in a pewter cauldron-never mind that it lasted longer if brewed in copper.

But Potter's burns needed immediate attention. "Kreacher!" Severus called, and the house elf appeared instantly.

"Is Severus trying to kill Master Harry?" asked the elf, with what was perhaps not the appropriate level of concern that such a question really required.

"Not as such," Severus said. "Is there any burn balm in this house?"

The elf nodded, and held out his hand; it contained a small jar of salve. Severus set Harry's head down carefully on the table, then took the jar from Kreacher. He uncapped it and sniffed; it appeared the balm was still good. Severus scooped out a dab and carefully applied it to Potter's face, which again resumed its normal color.

Potter remained asleep through the entire process. Severus turned to the elf. "Kreacher, can you please take Harry up to his room? He'll be sleeping for a while."

"Kreacher can see that for himself," the elf croaked, and took hold of Potter's hand and Disapparated.

But at least Potter didn't have any nightmares that night. Severus knew, because he stayed up all night, brewing a burn balm in case the one Kreacher provided was substandard. He followed the recipe he'd used before for a pewter cauldron. At dawn, he summoned Kreacher again, handed him the balm and instructed him to give it to Harry in case he needed it when he awoke.

Then Severus went to sleep.

He woke up at lunchtime, and went downstairs to the kitchen. Potter wasn't there, but there was a box with a note. Severus approached it cautiously. The note was addressed to him, in Potter's handwriting:

 _Severus,_

 _Next time you want to experiment on me with your potions, just ask. You know me well enough to know that I'll agree to it, but I'll pretend to protest if you'd prefer._

 _Kreacher told me that your problem was a lack of proper equipment. He made some suggestions. Hope this is what you need._

 _Harry_

Severus opened the box. Inside was a standard size 4 silver cauldron.

* * *

Severus made a perfectly-brewed batch of Calming Draught that afternoon, but he couldn't administer any to Potter for a few days, at least, while the mis-brewed draught was cleansed from his system. He took a small dose, himself, instead.

He finally saw Potter again at dinner.

"Hi Severus," the boy said. "Did you slip something into my drink again?"

"Not this time," Severus said. "We're going to wait a few days before we try anything new on you."

" _We_ are pleased to hear it. Was the cauldron the right kind?"

"Yes, and thank you. And I'd like to discuss future arrangements."

Potter looked at him suspiciously. "Yessss..."

"Do you also plan to return to Hogwarts in the fall?"

"No."

Severus waited for a more elaborate answer, but apparently, none was forthcoming. So he asked, "Then what do you plan to do with your time?"

"Erm. The Auror Academy is giving their entrance exam in a couple of weeks. I thought I would try it, anyway."

Even through the Calming Draught, Severus felt annoyance at this. "Thought you should try to see if the Aurors wouldn't mind letting Harry Potter join them? I'm sure your test scores could not be low enough to discourage them."

Potter actually agreed with this-evidently he'd already expressed his concerns to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had better reasons than Potter for not wanting the boy to become an Auror on the strength of his reputation.

"Usually they run all sorts of identification charms to make sure that the person taking the test matches the name on the test, but Kingsley's agreed to a go-round. And I talked to Justin Finch-Fletchley, and he has no problem with people thinking that he's taking the exam for the Auror Academy, so..."

"So you want me to brew Polyjuice Potion for you."

"Well, yes. And I'll sign Justin Finch-Fletchley's name, and no one giving the test or grading the test will know any different."

Severus wondered how long the boy had meant to wait before bringing up the subject himself, but the boy spoke again and interrupted his thoughts.

"If you don't have everything you need, I can buy it for you."

And suddenly, a beautiful opportunity presented itself. "I'll need a standard size 3 gold cauldron," Severus said immediately. He would have asked for a size 4, but that was probably needlessly extravagant. "And boomslang skin."

"Hermione brewed hers in a pewter cauldron," Potter said uncertainly.

Severus said, "If I brewed it in pewter, it would take a full lunar cycle," which was very nearly the truth. "When did you say the test was?"

Potter sighed.

"I'll also do you a favor and forgo my usual commission fees." It was the least he could do; a gold cauldron would easily cost forty times what he could charge for Polyjuice Potion.

By the end of the day, Severus had a beautiful brand-new standard size 3 gold cauldron. And he'd already started stewing the lacewing flies.

* * *

He managed to stay fairly busy. Through word-of-mouth, he'd picked up three commissions for brewing Wolfsbane Potion, and Pomona had already owled him about brewing for the Hogwarts hospital wing. "Horace has agreed to teach for another year," she wrote to him,

 _But he refuses to brew any more than he has to. I understand that you won't do this for free, Severus, and I'd like to tell you to name your price. But you know there's never been a huge amount of money set aside for this. Also, as I think you're aware, our budget is limited this year due to some unexpected repairs we've had to make on the castle over the summer. I'm afraid we can't afford to spend more than 400 galleons on potions commissions._

Four hundred galleons. It was a low sum for the amount of brewing that needed to be done, but he didn't doubt that Pomona was telling the truth. In previous years, he'd earned around 500 galleons for commissioned brews. Five hundred was still a low amount, but it was better than 400.

But there was a certain nobility to the job; he could say that he was brewing for the Hogwarts hospital wing, and claim to be doing it for the good of the wizarding community. Most people had children; most children went to Hogwarts; most children in Hogwarts needed a potion at one time or another. If a future employer knew that Severus was trustworthy enough to brew potions for the preeminent wizarding school in the country, and-more importantly-that his potions helped their own children... well. It could only help his reputation. He sent his reply that day:

 _Pomona,_

 _I'll do it for 350 galleons, plus supplies. Please give me a list of needed potions as soon as possible._

 _Severus_

 _PS-For the sake of my professional reputation, do not disclose this amount to anyone. And burn this letter upon receipt._

He got her reply that evening.

 _Severus,_

 _I won't pay a knut less than 400, plus access to our potions stores and whatever supplies you can get from the greenhouses and castle grounds. I'll have Poppy contact you soon with a list of her needs._

 _Pomona_

 _PS-You're a good man, Severus Snape, even if you claim to have your own reasons for doing this. And you may burn this note, too, if you wish._

He'd played her perfectly. He didn't know why it made him cry.

Meanwhile, Potter's nightmares became less frequent, and the boy calmed down more quickly after each occurrence. Unfortunately, his favorite calming method involved getting Severus to tell a story about himself. "I just need proof that I'm not using this lake permanently," Harry said. "That it's possible to pull things back out later, and it will be easier."

Severus, obviously, had never promised that, but the boy was sleeping better and disturbing him less, so whatever the boy needed to believe, Severus was willing to encourage it. He told stories the boy already knew: about when Black had told him about the secret passageway under the Whomping Willow; about how he'd been sorted into Slytherin, and Lily into Gryffindor; about spending his entire sixth year buried in his own potions book.

Oddly, after he told Potter about these things, he realized that he did feel differently about them.

* * *

He soon received an owl from Poppy Pomfrey, detailing the myriad potions the hospital wing needed most. None of the potions on the list surprised him, and he already had most of the ingredients he needed to make them, and the ones he lacked were not to be found on the grounds of Hogwarts. Still, he used the excuse to make a trip to the greenhouses. Pomona was more than happy to accommodate him.

On the day they'd arranged, Pomona met him at the castle gates and escorted him to the greenhouses, chatting amiably the entire way. She didn't seem to care that Severus grew more and more taciturn as they approached the greenhouses.

He hadn't told Longbottom he was coming. The young man would be surprised to see him, which was the best way to properly gauge Longbottom's true feelings. But as they drew closer to the greenhouses, Severus felt more and more hollow.

Pomona escorted him first into greenhouse one, which was empty save for the plants, and Severus hurriedly and methodically collected leaves and stems and flowers, storing them in labeled vials-as if he really needed all of them.

They moved on to greenhouse two and he repeated the same performance.

When they entered greenhouse three, he saw movement in the far corner and kept his body perfectly still and his face impassive, even though his heart pounded wildly in his chest. He didn't turn to look in the corner, and purposely ignored the footsteps coming up to him, even if he felt a little unsteady on his legs.

But it was Luna Lovegood. "Professor Snape! It's lovely to see you today. How are you?"

"I am well, Miss Lovegood," he said, but his eyes darted to other corners of the greenhouse.

"Neville's not here," she said, with the perfect dispassion he was trying so hard to project. "He's working in the Forbidden Forest today. He'll be very disappointed that he missed you."

"Yes, well. I'm here collecting potions supplies," he said, which sounded stupid even to his own ears.

But Pomona saved him without even trying, it seemed. "Mr. Snape has agreed to brew potions for the hospital wing, but he finds himself short of fresh ingredients."

 _Mister Snape_ sounded odd, and until Pomona said it, he hadn't realized that _Professor Snape_ wasn't his name anymore.

"That's nice," Miss Lovegood said. "Did you see that the nargle repellant is working?"

"Indeed, I haven't seen a single nargle yet," he said, and Miss Lovegood beamed. But Severus was no longer interested in the greenhouses. He turned to Pomona. "I believe I have everything I came here for. I can show myself out."

"Oh, nonsense, Severus-you must eat lunch with us. Minerva will be upset if you don't visit with her."

And so he ate lunch in the Great Hall. He sat in his old seat, on the other side of Minerva, and spent the entire time scanning the hall, mindful of the comings and goings of everyone, but Longbottom never made an appearance. Meanwhile, Minerva kept up a steady monologue. It seemed that she had communicated with Potter and was aware of their current living arrangement. If she disclosed her opinion on the matter, he didn't hear it-he glanced at her only occasionally and nodded when he detected a pause. When he'd had enough and stood to leave, Minerva rolled her eyes and said to him, "It was good to hear your vague mutterings again, Severus."

"Hmm," he said, and scanned the hall for Longbottom one more time.

* * *

Early in the morning on the day of Potter's test for the Auror Academy, the boy came up to Severus's room for his Polyjuice. Severus had just added hair provided by Justin Finch-Fletchley and was still decanting the potion from the silver cauldron into a discrete hip flask.

The boy watched him for a moment before he said, "I need the Polyjuice, Severus."

"Yes, I'm getting it ready for you now," Severus said.

"That's the Polyjuice?"

"Yes," Severus said, as if this were the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard-although he knew what Potter was on about.

"I thought you said you needed a gold cauldron!"

"And so I do. Just not for the Polyjuice."

"Oh my god," Harry said in a hollow voice and leaned heavily against the doorjamb. "I'm such an easy mark."

"That you are."

"I'm going to fail these tests...so, so badly."

"But Justin Finch-Fletchley will do fine," Severus said as he handed the hip flask to Potter. "Although he may score low at detecting deception."

Potter held the flask and looked at Severus helplessly.

"Take a drink every hour," Severus said, and pushed Harry out of his lab.

* * *

A few days later, Severus received an owl from Longbottom:

 _Hey,_

 _I hope you're doing well. I've heard so much about you lately-first from Luna that you visited-I'm sorry I missed you, by the way-and then I heard you moved in with Harry-I'm glad you finally listened to reason, or whatever the opposite of reason is._

 _I've been thinking about you, and I wondered if you wanted to see the greenhouses? They're doing really well, and I know you've seen them recently, but the yellow asters are in bloom now and are really lovely. And if I'm honest, I wouldn't mind seeing you, myself._

 _Let me know,  
Neville_

Severus didn't want to seem overly eager, so he sent back a reply to Longbottom, saying he was available in two days' time. He should have waited a day to send it, but that didn't occur to him until after he'd already sent the owl.

In any case, when he returned to Hogwarts two days later, Neville met him at the gates. They spent the walk to the greenhouses discussing all the seeds that Longbottom had been able to cultivate; which needed to be replanted; and which plants they hadn't been able to replace yet.

Neville took him first to greenhouse five, which had been Severus's favorite from the moment they'd finished construction on it. It had gone together more easily that the first greenhouses they'd constructed, and the elegance of the design did not seem forced as it had for the first few. Greenhouse six should have been even easier, but the ground underneath it was slightly uneven and it was at an odd angle, and therefore greenhouse five remained-in Severus's mind-the pinnacle of their achievements. They housed only flowering plants inside it.

The greenhouse was a riot of colors from brightest yellow to deepest blue. Severus breathed the clean smells of earth and plants. Bees and butterflies came and went through the louvered glass, and Severus was caught by the spell of the place. Some magic was passive, after all.

Longbottom didn't say anything while Severus gaped, but he did grab his hand and squeeze it. Severus squeezed back without thinking. They stood, side-by-side, looking, until Severus slowly became aware that he was holding Longbottom's hand. He tried to slip away from the young man's hand unobtrusively, but Longbottom turned to look at him.

"I'm not a nice man," Severus said, and it was almost an apology.

"Well, I know that well enough," Longbottom replied easily. "Next you'll tell me that you have trust issues."

"I-" Severus began, but didn't know how to continue. _Trust issues?_ Luckily, he was saved by the entrance of Pomona, who was obviously aware of Severus's visit. She insisted that Severus stay once again for lunch and so he did, this time spending the entire meal not looking in Longbottom's direction. In fact, he was so pointedly ignoring that entire side of the hall that he visibly jumped when a student came up to him and said, "Sir?"

It was Finch-Fletchley. "Yes?" Severus said harshly, to cover his startle.

"Erm...this just came for me-but it's for Harry. He told me you were living with him, so I thought maybe you could just give it to him?" He held out a thick green envelope with the Ministry's seal on it.

Severus took the envelope and dismissed Finch-Fletchley with a wave.

"What is it?" Minerva asked.

Severus wasted no time breaking the seal on the envelope and pulling out the papers inside. "Potter's...test results," he said distractedly.

Minerva sighed. "I suppose I'm expected to reprimand you for violating his privacy."

Severus smirked at her. "I suppose you know it's useless, since it involves me and Potter."

"I suppose he knows you well enough to not expect much in the way of privacy, anyway."

"I suppose I know _him_ well enough to know that he'd tell me, anyway."

She sighed again.

"Is your conscience properly appeased?" Severus asked.

"I _suppose_ ," Minerva said. "So give us a look, then."

Severus laid the papers on the table and they both read over them.

 _To Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchley:_

 _Dear Sir:_

 _The results for the aptitude and personality tests you took on 24 July are shown below. If you have any questions regarding the results, please let us know._

 _On a 17-point scale:_

 _Charms: 16  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: 18  
Herbology: 15  
Potions: 14  
Transfiguration: 16_

 _Personality tests show that Justin Finch-Fletchley is open, honest, temperamental, empathetic, impatient, has impeccable instincts, and tends toward single-mindedness._

 _The testing board is aware that Justin Finch-Fletchley has no grades for his N.E.W.T.s on account of missing a year at Hogwarts due to his blood status. Regardless, it is the conclusion of the board that he is a good candidate for the Auror Academy._

 _Mr. Finch-Fletchley, if you are still interested, please contact Yolie Hutchinson, Head of Admissions, as soon as possible for fall placement._

 _Thank you for considering placement in the Auror Academy._

 _Sincerely,  
_ _Daryl Ochiltree  
_ _Head of Testing, Auror Division_

"Well, then!" Minerva said, and slapped Severus on the back, much to his annoyance. "Congratulate Potter for me!" If she had been confused by Justin Finch-Fletchley's name on the test results, she didn't let on.

But when Severus returned to Grimmauld Place, he didn't seek out Potter. Instead he spent the afternoon pondering Longbottom's assessment that he had trust issues. Severus had never thought of his unwillingness to trust as a detriment. It was true that he didn't trust many people, but he had good reason for distrust. Most people trusted others far too readily-because they were fools, and Severus was no fool. But what if he didn't trust, even when trust was warranted?

He finally saw Harry at dinner that night, and Severus asked, "Potter, how well do you think I trust you?"

The boy looked at him uneasily. "What?"

"It's a simple question, Potter. I sleep in your home, I eat your food. How well do you think I trust you?"

"I...think you trust me well enough to sleep in my home and eat my food."

Which was not precisely an answer. He tried a different tack. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," the boy said quickly, which proved Severus's point about fools.

"Do you think I trust you to the same extent?"

The boy set down his fork and looked directly at Severus. "Is this a trick?" he asked.

"And you say you trust me."

"Yes, I trust you to get angry when I say the wrong thing when you ask a question like that."

"Just give me your honest impression: do you think I trust you?"

"Severus, I can never tell what's going on inside your head. Why don't you check your lake and let me know."

Severus looked inside himself. Potter, who looked so much like his father. His father the bully, his father the tormentor. Harry was a gentle soul, raised away from that-never even met his father, really. Harry, who'd apologized to him, and sought him out for comfort and told him every single one of his secrets. Severus should probably be nicer to him. But someday Weasley and Granger and the young Miss Weasley would start coming around, and Potter would want to spend more time with them, and he would kick Severus out of Grimmauld Place, and when that happened it would do Severus no good if he'd revealed to Potter that he'd ever had a soft spot for the boy.

Which was when Severus realized that he didn't fully trust Potter.

"I have trust issues," he said.

Harry laughed. "Believe me," he said. "I know."

"You could have just said."

"You wouldn't have believed me. Because of...you know." Harry gestured grandly, and Severus sneered back.

"By the way, this came for Justin Finch-Fletchley today," Severus said, and held out the envelope with the broken seal. Potter paled and didn't take it. "Is the Gryffindor afraid of his test results?" Severus mocked.

"Why don't you just tell me how I did?" Harry said, not bothered at all by the teasing.

"You did well enough, even in Potions, which surprised me. Though the results of your personality tests made me feel vindicated."

Harry swallowed visibly. "So, what? I'm foolhardy and noble and have a saving-people-thing?"

"Yes, and those are the exact qualities the Auror office are looking for, apparently."

Harry slumped. "Here-hand that over," he said, and tore the already-opened envelope and looked over his scores. "I did okay!" he announced. "And I don't see anything in here about being foolhardy."

"You have to account for paraphrasing."

Harry laughed. "I didn't tell you that you helped me on the potions written exam-there were questions about which cauldron was best for brewing certain potions-and two of the potions were Polyjuice and Calming Draught. They are both silver, right?"

Severus smirked. "Expensive lessons for you, I suppose. But I see you did learn something from it."

Harry laughed again.

* * *

 **Q: How did Harry get his test results so soon?**  
 **A: Magic, duh.**

 **I feel like I should say something about Alan Rickman, because obviously I'm sad, and I'm going to take it as a given that you're sad, too. I dunno what to tell you. Go re-read Evanna Lynch's tribute to him, then re-watch Galaxy Quest. "Gwen, I have said it for years: he's mentally unstable," says the man in the rubber head.**

 **Obviously, my fic follows the books, not the movies, but it would be insane to pretend that I don't see Alan Rickman when I picture Snape. When I first found out, Murph said two profoundly unhelpful things:**

 **1\. "Snape's not dead; Alan Rickman is dead."**  
 **(Newsflash: Snape is dead. And now Alan Rickman is, too.)**

 **2\. "Alan Rickman would want you to finish your fic."**  
 **(Prrrrretty sure Alan Rickman wouldn't give a shit, either way. Way to attribute your own desires to the dead guy, Murph. [eyeroll])**

 **Of course, I don't have anything better to say. So.**

 **Anyway. By Grabthar's hammer, I will finish this fic. (This fic is essentially finished, anyway, so don't worry. It's all just editing.) (I've even already written an overly sappy epilogue that everyone will hate, but I don't care what you think-it's for me.)**


	9. Chapter 9

Toward the end of the second week of August, Hermione Granger returned from Australia with her parents. Harry warned Severus that he was going to have a party during the weekend to celebrate her return, so Severus made plans to be elsewhere Saturday night. However, he was not prepared for company on Friday morning, when Ronald and Ginevra Weasley showed up, claiming they were there to help Harry get ready for the party. But Harry hadn't even woken up, so they followed Severus downstairs to the kitchen and sat themselves down at the table.

"What do you need to get ready for?" Severus asked them irritably over his breakfast. "Kreacher will do all the cooking. Your friends will show up. I will be gone. Tell me: what details are left to be arranged?"

"Not much, probably," Ginevra responded with a shrug. "But Ron's a little high-strung these days and it was best to get him out of the house."

"I'm not high-strung," Ronald grumbled. "I've just been worried about Hermione."

Ginevra rolled her eyes.

"Well, she has been gone for nearly two months," Ronald snapped.

"You've been apart for that long, before," the girl replied.

"This is different, Ginny, and you know it!"

"And you'll see her tomorrow, so there's no need to be moody today!"

Severus watched the siblings argue, with absolutely no interest. He just hoped they would start yelling loud enough to wake up Potter.

"-being a right prat, Ron," Ginevra said.

"Oh, _I'm_ being a prat. If I didn't know better, I'd think _you'd_ been wearing a Horcrux all day. But you don't even know what that's like, so you've got no excuse!"

Ginevra stood so suddenly that her chair fell back. When she spoke, her voice was deathly quiet. "What did you say to me?"

Severus started paying attention again. By the looks of it, Ronald started paying attention, too. The boy shifted in his seat and looked away from his sister. "Okay, so maybe you do know something about it, but lay off already!"

"Don't you even talk to me about knowing _something_ about it, Ron. You had a Horcrux, part of the time-for what? Two months?"

"Yeah, I did, and it was bloody awful, so shut up!"

Ginevra screamed a mirthless laugh. "Yes I'm sure it was terrible for you!"

By this time, Ronald had stood up, too, and drew himself up to his full height, although he did not approach Ginevra. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare even play like it wasn't bloody awful-having that madman's voice in my head! Even once was too much! Don't act like it was so much worse for you, just because you had a Horcrux for longer!"

The door to the kitchen suddenly slammed open, and all three occupants jumped and turned to look.

Harry stood there, one arm braced on the door, with an inscrutable expression on his face.

Ronald and Ginevra froze, and it seemed to Severus like several moments passed before Ronald said, "Mate..."

But the room fell silent once again. Harry's eyes blazed at the Weasleys. He finally shook his head slightly, then turned and walked away.

"Mate!" Ronald said again, but they heard the sharp crack of Harry Disapparating.

"Shit," Ronald said, and looked guiltily at his sister. "Sorry," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, me too. Now, go get him."

Ronald made a face. "He could be anywhere."

"You know where he's going."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

Severus didn't know, but thought it was a bad time to ask, as well as a bad time to remind the others that he was still there.

The boy scrunched up his nose. "I don't know what to say to him."

"Tell him you're sorry, and hurry, because if you wait, he's going to walk into that forest alone, and he should never have to do that again, Ron."

"Shit."

"Tell him I'm sorry, too."

"Yeah." Ronald had to walk past his sister to get to the door, and as he did so, he clasped her arm. "I really am sorry," he said.

Ginevra closed her eyes. "I am, too," she said, and opened her eyes again. "Now go get Harry."

Ronald left, which left Severus alone in the kitchen with Ginevra Weasley. The girl seemed to notice Severus for the first time. "Sorry about that," she said.

"What was your experience with Horcruxes?" he asked, because these Gryffindors never seemed to mind naked curiosity.

"Oh," Ginevra said, and stopped, and Severus wondered if he'd finally found a topic off-limits to one of these open-hearted fools. But then she continued. "I thought all the teachers knew. Tom Riddle's diary. My first year. The Chamber of Secrets." She shrugged as if this were a cohesive narrative. But it left a lot of the leg-work to Severus.

Tom Riddle-the Dark Lord. In Ginevra's first year (according to Dumbledore), she had been possessed somehow by the Dark Lord-who did not yet have a corporeal form-and had been forced to open the Chamber of Secrets and command Slytherin's monster. The story had always been a little odd.

"Tom Riddle's diary was a horcrux?"

"Yes," she said, frowning at him.

"And you somehow came into possession of it?"

"Yes, _somehow_ Lucius Malfoy slipped it in with my schoolbooks." She studied him. "You really didn't know?"

He shook his head solemnly. "What happened?" he asked, hoping that she would answer.

She took a breath and held it. "I wrote in it all year..." Her expression hardened. "And that fucking arsehole used me, and I was only eleven, and I was just-powerless. God, I'm sorry," she said, as she wiped angry tears from her cheeks. "I'm not _sad_ -it still just pisses me off so much I can hardly see straight. Sorry," she repeated, and pulled her wand and exploded a pair of sconces on the wall. "And now my fucking brother can't even remember that I rather do know what a Horcrux can do to you, thank you very much." She set a chair on fire, then put it out quickly and apologized.

"Try levitating the table and a chair at the same time," Severus suggested.

She looked at him oddly, but did as he said. She surprised him by managing it quite easily. "Do a few more chairs," he said, and as she raised all the chairs (except for the one Severus was still sitting in), the table wobbled a bit in mid-air. Ginevra focused her magic so that everything floated with perfect control.

"Levitate the buffet, as well," Severus said, wondering if that would be too much.

She did, and even managed to arrange the furniture prettily in mid-air. She set it all down in the new configuration, with the buffet against a different wall, and two of the chairs removed from the table and now sitting next to the buffet. "I think that spacing works better with the door and the fireplace," she said. "And that is really draining-thank you."

"Yes, multiple objects, the heavier and more awkward, the better-and don't levitate anything directly overhead."

"That sounds like the voice of experience," she said with a wry smile.

"I admit to nothing."

She grinned. "I can see why Harry likes having you around."

He wasn't sure how to react to that, so he didn't.

Ginevra stopped smiling and looked at Severus seriously. "I have a problem with you, Severus Snape, but if Harry can work things out with you, then I should be able to, too. I've been thinking about it, and maybe my problem is with myself, or maybe Tom Riddle-and maybe I'm just blaming you."

She paused, and Severus had no idea what to say. "Miss Weasley," he tried, but she interrupted him.

"I'm thinking out loud, here, so just...shut up."

He did.

"When he-When Tom Riddle was possessing me, when I was eleven, I didn't understand anything that was happening to me. I'd...wake up in a corridor and not remember how I got there. It was disorienting and...so bloody scary. And last year, when you interrogated me with Veritaserum-" she took a deep breath and levitated the table again. "I didn't know you used Veritaserum," she said, not looking at him, but concentrating on keeping the table from hitting the ceiling. "I just woke up in your office, and I couldn't remember the last several minutes, and it scared me. I hadn't felt anything like that in years, and I never wanted to feel it again." She raised all the chairs, the buffet, and the heavy stone mantlepiece and let them hover for several moments before she dropped them all gently back down. She turned to look at Severus. "Neville and Luna told me later that it was just Veritaserum, and I wanted to kill you for doing that to me. You could have at least _told_ me."

Severus blinked. He remembered the incident, but he remembered Ginevra's part in it only vaguely-it had been when she and her friends had tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor. He could remember getting very angry with Longbottom, and he remembered that Miss Lovegood hadn't needed Veritaserum at all. But when he tried to remember interrogating Miss Weasley, he couldn't. He must have done so, of course-he didn't doubt her, and it made sense that he would have questioned her.

But it would be offensive to admit that he didn't remember something that had such a great effect on her.

"My apologies, Miss Weasley," he said. "I didn't mean to make you feel violated." He supposed it might even be the truth.

Ginevra snorted at him. "Other than the violation of being forced to answer all your questions truthfully," she said.

He hedged. "But typically one does not _feel_ violated after an interrogation under Veritaserum."

She nodded, as if understanding that this was the best comfort he could offer. "I can see why you drive Harry mad," she said. She repaired the wall sconces and left the kitchen.

* * *

Harry and Ron returned later, and seemed to enjoy spending the rest of the day together. But before Severus retired for the evening, he went downstairs to the second floor, and found Harry's bedroom door ajar. He knocked on it, and Harry said, "Come in."

Harry sat on his bed, fiddling with the pages of a book open in his lap. He didn't look at Severus.

"You'll most likely have nightmares tonight," Severus said without preamble. "Try to remember the lake."

"I know. Thanks." He darted a glace at Severus.

"Don't ward your room against sound," Severus said.

Harry snorted softly. "You may want to ward yours, then."

"Yes, that option remains open to me," Severus said, and swept from the room before Harry could reply.

But it was Severus who had nightmares that night. The Dark Lord was trying to pry inside his mind, trying to find his lake, and Severus tried to distract him with memories of the Marauders, of Harry, of hating Harry, and Severus thought it had worked because the Dark Lord withdrew from his mind, but the Dark Lord looked at him with a chilling smile. "You think of Harry Potter as a son," the Dark Lord said, and Severus had never heard anything so ridiculous but then the Dark Lord was choking him, choking him, and Severus flailed and fought for his breath but he couldn't reach any part of the man who was killing him, but then he hit something solid and there was a grunt, so he swung in that direction again and the Dark Lord said, "Jesus fuck, Severus, wake up," and that didn't make any sense and Severus still couldn't breathe and then the Dark Lord grabbed his shoulders and shook him, without ever letting go of his throat, but that shouldn't be possible, so Severus reached up and touched his own neck and found that the Dark Lord's hands were gone...

And he opened his eyes and gasped for breath.

He was, of course, in his bed, in Grimmauld Place, and the Dark Lord was dead and Harry Potter was in his room. He registered all of this, but still had to get out of the bed immediately, but his leg was caught and he may have made an undignified whimpering sound as he fought to free his slightly sweaty leg from the clinging cotton sheets. Finally, he tumbled out of the bed in an awkward heap and lay on the floor, clutching at his neck and trying to catch his breath.

When he'd calmed enough to be embarrassed, he looked up and found that Potter had left. He gasped in relief and made a brief effort to stand but quickly decided against it.

Potter returned to his room and handed him a glass of water. Severus took it without looking at the boy.

"That's pretty fucking messed up, seeing that from this side," the boy said.

Severus snorted into his water glass.

"I, er...I suppose you remember the trick with the lake," the boy said.

Severus looked at him, but the boy was looking down. "I'm always aware of the lake," Severus said, but not with anger. "I...the Dark Lord found something in my lake. I was being punished."

Harry looked up at him with sad eyes.

"Thank you for the water," Severus said.

"It's a trick I learned from a friend," Harry replied, and mercifully left the room before the conversation got more awkward. "Don't ward your room for sound," the boy called from the hallway.

* * *

The next day, Potter made a halfhearted attempt to convince Severus to stay for the party. "You might have fun," the boy said. "I've invited all sorts of people."

"All sorts of people" meant "all sorts of teenagers," but still, the guest list was a bit surprising: Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginevra Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, Padma and Parvati Patil. And then Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne Greengrass.

"That's three more Slytherins than I expected you to invite," Severus said.

Harry shrugged. "I worked with Theo when we were cleaning up the castle. Ron worked with Millie and Hermione worked with Daphne. And it turns out that not everyone in Slytherin House is evil."

"No, Potter. Slytherins are every bit as morally ambiguous as everyone else. Except for Gryffindors, of course."

"No, you don't have to guess where a Gryffindor stands, it's true. We're not an ambiguous lot."

"Nor an ambivalent one."

"No, we're not big on any of the 'ambi-' words, really."

"Ambition."

Harry snorted.

"Still," Severus told him, "I will give this party a miss."

He ate dinner alone in a pub. He thought about going to a show, but he didn't have enough Muggle money and didn't care enough to change over his galleons. Instead, he Apparated to Cokeworth, and spent his evening reading an old book from Spinner's End. It was dull, but it passed the time.

It was late when he returned to Grimmauld Place. When he entered the front door, he was surprised to see Theodore Nott in the entry hall, just putting on his coat.

"Snape," the young man greeted him.

"Mr. Nott," Severus replied.

"You should have stayed-you would have had a good time," Nott said, and left Severus wondering why the young man would lie to him.

It disturbed him that Nott was just leaving. He assumed that the Slytherins would have been the first to leave-did this mean that the party was still in full swing?

But he couldn't hear any voices, so he started towards his room. On his way, he saw Harry and Neville, both in the first floor sitting room. Severus paused outside the open door, and both young men stood up when they saw him. Harry said, "Welp, 'ts time for me to bed. Night!"

Which left Severus alone with Neville Longbottom, who was clearly in his cups. The young man didn't seem sure of where to put his feet, but managed to walk over to Severus and gave him a bear hug. Longbottom didn't pull away from Severus, either, but kept hanging on to his shoulders with one arm. "We missed you!" he said expansively, as he leaned on Severus.

"Hm," Severus said, and tried to lift Neville's arm, but the young man stumbled a bit. Severus let him be, and started to maneuver them to the couch.

"School shtarts in lessinna _muuunth_."

"I know," Severus said in a falsely patient voice.

"Won't be th'same w'thou' chew."

"Hopefully not." They had reached the couch, and Severus tried to push Neville down on to it, but the young man proved to be surprisingly and stubbornly upright.

"I love you, Severus Snape," Neville said lucidly, and kissed Severus on the nose. Then his knees buckled and he was suddenly sitting on the couch.

Severus couldn't take offense at the ridiculous young man, not when he looked so disoriented that he might have just Apparated to the couch.

"Sleep there," Severus told him.

"Ogay," Neville said, and curled up.

Severus Summoned a blanket for him, and on second thought, a large glass of water.


	10. Chapter 10

One morning towards the end of August, Severus was walking down to the kitchen for breakfast when he heard a timid knock on the front door. He opened it to reveal Arthur Weasley, and after a brief greeting, the other man said, "I was just stopping by to make sure Ginny spent the night here last night."

Severus frowned; he had no idea. He was secure enough in Grimmauld Place to not keep track of the comings and goings of Potter's friends. But guests didn't usually spend the night-between Harry's nightmares and Severus's, the house was not likely to provide restful slumber. However, if the boy were to have an overnight guest, it would most likely be Ginevra Weasley.

But this put Severus in an awkward position: he would prefer to send Arthur up to Potter's room to check for himself-but for obvious reasons, the girl's father was not the ideal man for the job.

But Severus wasn't willing to do it by himself. So he compromised and invited Arthur to follow him upstairs. The man looked about as uncomfortable with the situation as Severus felt, so it was a relief when they didn't make it all the way up to the boy's room before they found Arthur's wayward daughter. As they passed the first floor sitting room, they saw Harry and Ginevra, slumped over on opposite sides of the couch, facing each other, clearly asleep. The couch had been turned around, away from the fireplace and towards the door, and the remnants of a magical fire still smoldered on the floor in front of them.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and walked around toward Ginevra, but before he got there, he stepped on a creaky floorboard.

Harry and Ginevra leapt to their feet in a flash. Severus and Arthur were immediately pushed back by an unseen barrier, and Severus felt like he'd been hit by a stinging hex of some kind. Ginevra seemed calm enough, but Severus was closer to Potter, whose eyes were wild and darting.

He spoke without thinking. "Harry, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?" He said it loudly, and then repeated it: "Harry, can you hear my voice?"

"Yes," Harry said, but his eyes were still unfocused. Severus tried to take a step forward, but was blocked by the invisible shield that had been thrown into place-probably by Harry. "It is Severus. You are in Grimmauld Place. You fell asleep in the sitting room last night. Ginevra Weasley is here, and Arthur."

"Gin?" the boy said, as if this was the only word that made sense to him, and Severus and Arthur were pushed farther back by the shield as Potter turned to face her.

And then Potter and Ginevra rushed into a hug so quick and so tight that Severus couldn't remember them being apart. Harry buried his face in her neck, and Severus heard a mumbled, "God, are you okay?-" and Ginevra whispered, "I'm fine, Harry." But as she said it, she shot a glare at the other men in the room.

Arthur took the hint, and backed out of the room without once saying a word. Severus did the same, wondering if he would have been more or less uncomfortable if he'd found them in _flagrante delicto_. He had never seen Potter more vulnerable. He pulled the door closed as he left, and as he did so he heard a sob, and quickly warded the door against sound.

Severus turned to to Arthur and saw a horrible burn that covered the man's neck and cheek, and stopped just below his eye. "Would you like some balm for that?" Severus asked, because _Finite_ didn't work against wild magic.

"Yes, please," Arthur said gratefully, and Severus Summoned the burn balm and the men walked down to the kitchen. Arthur applied the balm to himself, examining his reflection in the bottom of a pot. "She takes after her mother," he said, as he unbuttoned his collar and dabbed some of the balm on his neck. "I should have remembered that and let her sleep. I was just relieved that she wasn't...well..."

"Naked," Severus supplied.

Arthur burst into uncomfortable laughter and turned bright red. "That too, I suppose-but I was just glad she was safe and unharmed." He turned and looked at Severus, and handed back the balm. "It looks like she got you, too-sorry. At least Harry's instinct is defensive rather than offensive."

Severus made a noncommittal noise, and Arthur handed over the pot he'd been using as a mirror. Severus used it to apply the balm to his own face and neck. He thought about the wild magic-the shield and the hex. Both had been cast wandlessly and wordlessly, and while the casters were still mostly asleep. Harry's shield had included Ginevra, but her hex had been able to pass through it.

"Their magic is complementary," Severus remarked.

"It is, isn't it?" Arthur said, as if this weren't a revelation. "Do you mind if I use your Floo right quick to let Molly know that Ginny is okay?" Severus waved toward the Floo powder on the mantle, and Arthur used it to make his call. Severus listened to the one-sided conversation.

"Ginny's here, love, and she's fine."

"No you can't, because I accidentally startled her and Harry awake. It will take a while for them to calm down."

"Yes, I was just telling Severus that."

"No, Severus already gave me some. I'm sure it looks worse than it is."

"Yes, well, I've got to get to work; I'm sure Severus will tell her to call you when she's ready."

"You're welcome, dear, and I love you too."

Arthur withdrew from the fire, stood up, and turned back to Severus. "I'll be leaving, then. Thank you, and I'm sorry if I imposed on you this morning!"

As soon as Arthur left, Severus went to check on Harry and Ginevra. He removed the sound barrier and listened outside the door, but the only thing he heard was the buzzing in his ears of _Muffliato_. That meant the door had been warded from the other side. Severus supposed that was good, and carried on as usual.

When Harry and Ginevra finally emerged from the sitting room forty-five minutes later, they were both far calmer than they had any right to be. But their hair was in complete disarray.

* * *

The rhythms of Severus's daily life were still influenced by the school year. Harry started the Auror Academy on the first of September, which would have made days in Grimmauld Place intolerably quiet, except that Severus had several commissions to brew. He'd been contacted by the head of Magical Law Enforcement (Ravi Patil, who had children at Hogwarts) about brewing Veritaserum.

Severus thought about Neville as the Veritaserum simmered in the stone cauldron for three solid days. He hadn't seen the young man since his drunken declaration of love. He wondered how his school year was going.

He and Harry conversed easily over dinner almost every night. They could talk about a potion Severus was brewing; or Potter could talk about his Auror training classes. One of the boy's classes was called "Thinking like a Dark Witch or Wizard," which Potter resented.

"It should be called, 'Thinking like a Human Being Who's Been Pushed to Extremes,'" he told Severus one evening. "I don't think that the people teaching the class have ever been truly ostracized, or even mocked by anyone. I bet they've never even missed a meal," he said with disgust. "I told the class today that I was evidently the Darkest Wizard in the room, because I could sympathize with everything the stupid book describes. Listen to this, would you?" And Potter pulled out the book and read from it:

"'If a witch or wizard is truly Dark, they will do everything in their power to carry out their aims. If these aims are nebulous or unattainable, they may attempt deeds which are reckless and dangerous-heedless of collateral damage-and then claim that these things somehow work toward their ultimate goal.'

"Can you believe that? I told the class that I broke into fucking Gringotts and escaped on the back of a blind dragon, just so I could defeat Voldemort, and then I told them to read that passage again."

"You truly said that?" Severus asked.

"Well, I didn't say 'fucking,' but yeah."

Severus fought a grin that seemed to want to tug his whole face up. "What did your teacher and classmates have to say to that?"

"Nothing! They wouldn't even look at me!"

Potter was so outraged that Severus took pity on him. "Silence is the sound most people make when they are thinking, Potter."

"Oh," Harry said, and lapsed into silence himself.

* * *

Ginevra was no longer a potential overnight guest. Indeed, Potter despaired of seeing her at all before Christmas, as she had decided to take her N.E.W.T.s at the end of the school year. Pomona had worked out a deal so that students in her year wouldn't be penalized if they performed poorly on N.E.W.T. levels, and would be able to take their exams again, after having completed two proper years of instruction after their O.W.L.s. The thought of an extra year of schooling put the fear of God in the seventeen year olds, and Ginevra was quite dedicated to her studies.

During the last week of October, Severus got another order from Ravi Patel for more Veritaserum. The morality of interrogating so many people under the truth serum may have bothered Severus, but the commission fee appeased his pocketbook. In order to fill the order, he needed fresh Confinemint. The Apothecary in Diagon Alley only had the dried mint, and Severus had no desire to visit Hogsmeade. If he were to go that far, he'd rather get the Confinemint from the Hogwarts greenhouses, where he'd planted it five months before. It should be flourishing. Besides, the mint would be more potent if the one brewing it was also the one who harvested it.

He had an agreement with Pomona about accessing the greenhouses for potions ingredients for the hospital wing, but he was almost sure she would extend this to include a few leaves of mint. But she was probably busy with all of her new duties as Head.

He could contact the new Herbology professor, but he didn't even know the man's name.

So he decided to contact Longbottom. He sent a terse note to the young man, detailing which plants he needed, and why. Longbottom sent him a reply, saying that he'd spoken with Professor Sprout, and Severus was welcome to anything in the greenhouses within reason. Longbottom also said that Severus could come to Hogwarts anytime, but it would be best if he came after classes, and Neville could escort him if Severus sent word ahead of time.

Severus sent word ahead of time.

When Neville greeted Severus at the front gates, he looked good. He looked happy, he looked...broad, and after the initial greeting and requisite eye contact, Severus didn't look at him at all.

They walked side-by-side to the greenhouses, and Neville let him into greenhouse four, which-among other things-housed several different varieties of mint. The greenhouse was stunning, and absolutely flourishing with life. Severus only allowed himself a small moment to take it in, and then walked over to the Confinemint.

"Some potions require that the mint be cut perpendicular to the stem, and others require parallel cuts-cutting the leaves in two slices and leaving the stems behind," Severus said as he got his knife out of his pocket. He indicated the different possible cut lines on a leaf. "It depends on what aspect you wish to confine: physical or mental. Cutting the leaves perpendicular to the stem is best for potions which confine the physical body, such as a Freezing Potion or a Numbing Brew. For Veritaserum, which requires the mind and the will to be confined, I need to cut the Confinemint parallel to the stem." He had to concentrate for a bit while he carefully cut the leaves, trying to get as close to the stem as possible without nicking it. "It's always best if the one who brews the potion also harvests the fresh ingredients," he continued. "I've always had access to the Hogwarts greenhouses and never thought about how lucky I'd been. Now that I'm away, I find myself missing certain aspects that I had..."

Severus realized he was babbling. The only thing for it was to finish what he was saying and then stop talking immediately. "...always taken for granted," he said. He dared to glace at Longbottom, and the broad-shouldered handsome young man was looking back at him as if all of Severus's babbling was the most interesting thing he'd heard all day. They looked at each other for a moment, and Neville looked away and laughed self-deprecatingly.

"You'll mock me for this," Longbottom said, "but it never occurred to me that Confinemint was used to actually... _confine_ things. I always just thought it was a name. So, erm, what is Encouragemint used for? Calming Draught?"

Severus frowned, and Longbottom stuttered, "Er, nevermind, I know I'm rubbish at potions."

"No," Severus said slowly. "Encouragemint is not used in Calming Draughts, although I can't think of why. It...it should be." He and Neville looked at each other in silence again, and Severus felt the awkwardness of it. "I should like to take some of it with me to experiment with, if you don't mind."

"No, no, not at all," Neville said, and blushed deeply but didn't look away.

Severus felt slightly queasy and suddenly felt like his arms were too long. He wasn't sure how to hold them; he wasn't sure about anything at the moment. He looked away and saw his knife sitting next to the mint. He took it and started to fold it away, then remembered that he wanted to cut more leaves. Glad for something to focus on, he set about the task-but the silence in the greenhouse was oppressive. He cleared his throat and said, "The new professor is taking good care of the greenhouses."

"Well," Neville said, "it's mostly me. I mean, Professor Randall is a nice man and he knows a lot about plants, but he seems really overwhelmed. I volunteered to work in the greenhouses outside of class, and when Professor Sprout told him that I helped to rebuild them, he was more than happy to let me."

Severus nodded. He had finished collecting his leaves and he stood facing Neville once again. He couldn't stop himself-he saw his hand reach out and grasp Neville's arm, just below the shoulder. "You're looking well," he said gruffly.

Neville froze, not even seeming to breathe. "You too," he murmured.

Severus didn't know how to proceed. He let go of Neville's arm and nodded, almost to himself. "That's all I needed, then," he said. "I'll be leaving."

"Wait," Neville said. "Stay for dinner. In Hogsmeade-we'll go to the Three Broomsticks."

And so they did. Neville talked about the different problems they were having with some plants, and about a leak in greenhouse six that was fixed by redoing the flashing. (Severus didn't realize that they had done flashing the first time.) "Greenhouse six was just at an odd angle, but I made the flashing a little wider on the southeast corner and that fixed it right up-there haven't been any leaks since then." Severus talked about the potions he was working on, and the modifications he could make to a Calming Draught to incorporate the Encouragemint, and what results he expected to see. In short, they shared a very agreeable evening. At the end of the meal, Severus walked with Neville back to his flat, and when they parted, he made to shake the young man's hand. Neville looked at Severus's outstretched hand and smiled. Keeping his hands by his own sides, Neville leaned over and kissed Severus gently on the corner of his mouth. Severus's stomach did a little flip, but he worked to keep his breathing level. "It was good to see you today, Severus," he said, and smiled. Then he turned and walked into his flat.

* * *

The next morning he got a very angry owl from Minerva. The owl looked at him reproachfully as if she knew everything distasteful he'd ever done, and waited for him to take his letter and read it. The letter read:

 _Severus, I heard that you were coming to Hogwarts yesterday, but I didn't see you once. For your sake, I hope you are seriously ill and weren't able to make the trip. I expect you to recover soon and stop by to see me the moment you are well._

 _-Minerva_

 _PS: The owl will wait for your reply. If you're too sick to put quill to parchment, send the owl back without a reply, and I will fetch you shortly and bring you to Poppy for your convalescence._

He genuinely laughed at her postscript. He could still learn a lot about the art of the veiled threat from Minerva McGonagall. He sent the owl back with the reply: "Indeed, Minerva, I have been quite incapacitated by an unknown malady. I will have recovered by next week, if that is agreeable to your schedule."

He spent the day brewing Veritaserum, and while it simmered he started on the experimental Calming Draught, using Encouragemint. He brewed it in the silver cauldron, but it wasn't discernibly different from regular Calming Draught in smell, color, or consistency. He decided to try it again in the stone cauldron once the Veritaserum was done. The silver cauldron likely didn't bring out the inherent properties of the mint like stone would. All the same, he hoped that Harry returned home in a state of agitation so Severus could try out the new potion.

Encouragemint. It was quite ingenious, and would balance out some of the weaknesses of a Calming Draught. He couldn't believe no one had tried it before. Perhaps Longbottom's expertise in Herbology could complement Severus's expertise in potions.

Before he could get too far in these ridiculous thoughts, an owl appeared with Minerva's reply: "I hope you mean to visit next weekend. You may as well plan to be sick for the rest of the week-unless you've forgotten what it is to teach and be Head of House. I shall expect to see you Friday evening."

But he didn't want to go to Hogwarts without seeing Neville.

He owled Longbottom and told him he'd be at Hogsmeade by 4:00. Neville sent back a perfunctory reply, which didn't bother Severus until Friday morning. He wasted hours of his life worrying about what robes to wear. He finally chose his black ones.

He met Neville in Hogsmeade, and they went on a leisurely walk on the castle grounds, which had been restored beautifully after the battle, and ventured into the Forbidden Forest, and spoke of nothing in particular. They found some mushrooms that Neville knew by sight and Severus knew by reputation; he collected some to use later in a potion.

They ended up in a small clearing that Severus immediately recognized. He had thought they were just meandering, but he must have led them here without realizing it. It was his door-the portal that Dumbledore had created-the one that would always allow Severus entrance to Hogwarts.

So he told Neville. About the portal, about the night Dumbledore created it, and why. How Severus had never even had a key to his own home when he was younger, and yet Dumbledore had given him, essentially, a key into Hogwarts-but only so that Severus could still gain entrance after he'd murdered Dumbledore and no one inside the castle trusted him anymore.

He closed his eyes, and breathed in and out carefully.

"That was pretty unfair, asking you to do that," Neville said.

Severus shrugged. "It was unfair that you and Harry grew up without parents, because of what I had done."

Neville looked at him sharply, and Severus's stomach dropped. "Oh, fuck, you didn't know, did you?"

"What are you talking about, Severus?"

 _Jesus fuck shit fuck goddamned motherfucking CHRIST_. There was nothing for it. This was why he didn't trust people, because trusting people meant telling them things that made them leave.

"The prophecy," he said harshly. "I heard the first part of it, and since I cared more for my status than for any child of my enemies, I reported everything I'd heard to the Dark Lord." He sneered. "Because of that, the Dark Lord tried to kill Potter and his parents, and when he failed, his followers came after you and your parents."

Neville stood frozen, and Severus couldn't look at him. He turned and walked away-away from the clearing that was his, away from the door that would always admit him to his past, away from the young man with whom he'd started to hope for a future.

What a joke.

Neville let him go.

Well, he finally had proof that Potter and Neville weren't talking about him behind his back, at least not about the one thing that would have prevented this debacle.

Severus walked through the front gates of Hogwarts and Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. He stormed up the stairs toward his bedroom, but Harry's own door was open and the boy called after him. "Hey, Severus! Back a little early?"

Severus didn't pause on his way up the stairs. And a curse on the boy, anyway. Severus had just assumed Potter had told all his secrets-which was highly inappropriate, but would have at least saved him from his current situation. Potter followed him up to his room. "How was McGonagall?" he asked from the doorway.

"What?" What did McGonagall have to do with it?

"McGonagall. You went to see her, didn't you? Did you have a good time?"

"Shit," he said. "I have to go back."

Potter finally seemed to realize that Severus was out of sorts. "Erm, how was Neville?"

If Severus had been holding something, he would have thrown it. Instead, he felt tears prickling his eyes and fought them with everything he had. "Why didn't you _tell him_?" he roared. Off Potter's blank look, Severus continued, "About the prophecy? About my role? About my betrayal! You told _everyone_ everything _else_ -why couldn't you tell _him_ about the _one thing I did_ which _directly affected him_?"

"Erm..."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Severus yelled, and shoved Potter back, out of his room, and slammed his door shut. "FUCK," he said, remembering Minerva. He could beg off, of course, but with Minerva, it would be easier, far easier in the long run, to just go back to the castle. He pushed everything down, as he hadn't done in a while, and it took longer than it used to, but he persisted, and managed, and opened his door to find Potter still standing, stupidly, on the other side of it. "I'm going back to Hogwarts," Severus announced, and left Grimmauld Place once again.

He went and talked to Minerva. It was more awkward than he would have imagined, had he allowed himself to imagine it. She spoke of students, and grading papers, and catching students out of curfew, and students not understanding something she had taught.

Severus had left all that behind and hadn't looked back. Was that how he would have sounded, in previous years, to an outsider?

Minerva noticed that he'd gone quiet. "What's wrong, Severus?" she asked.

He shrugged, and meant to deflect her, but instead he heard himself say, "Why did you save me?"

"What?"

He hadn't meant to ask it at all, but now that he had, he desperately needed to know why. "Why were you even in the Shrieking Shack? There was no reason for you to be there. And you still thought I was a traitor-you'd called me a coward, just a few hours before-why, _why_ , did you take it upon yourself to save my life?"

She made some business with the sleeve of her robes. Finally, she said, "That's two different questions. Why was I there? Because Ron Weasley sent me a Patronus, just after He- _Voldemort_ called a halt to the assault on the castle. Weasley said that you were dying and that I should go see you." She let that sink in for a bit before continuing. "Why did I save you? Because I wanted to forgive you." She sipped her tea and didn't meet his eyes.

This was so inadequate that he waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "That sounds rather selfish," he said.

"Yes, well, noble self-sacrifice had been done." She cocked her eyebrow at him and sipped her tea primly.

Severus sighed.

"How are you, really, Severus?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Bullshit," she said, but she still somehow managed to say it primly.

* * *

He dreamed that night that he was back at Hogwarts because he agreed to teach Potions for another year. It was only one year, after all, and he was sure he could survive it. But as he looked out on his students on the first day of school, he realized that he had the entire year ahead of him, and he'd made a horrible mistake. He couldn't do it again; he didn't think he'd make it through the first day, let alone the whole year.

When he woke up, he couldn't stop thinking about Neville for some reason.

At breakfast, Harry informed him that he was going to Hogwarts to watch the Quidditch match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. "And I haven't seen Ginny in ages, so after the match we're going out to Hogsmeade, and I probably won't be back until late."

Severus shrugged in reply.

Almost as soon as Harry left, Neville knocked on the door of Grimmauld Place.

"You didn't stay for Quidditch?" Severus sneered at him.

"I have more important things to do," Neville said, and stepped around Severus, into the house.

Severus closed the door but didn't turn around, didn't even move. They stood in uncomfortable silence.

"Were you going to offer tea or something?" Neville finally asked.

"Were you going to stay that long?"

"Never mind. I know where to find the tea myself," Neville said, and walked down to the kitchen. "Would you like some, too?" he called over his shoulder.

"Neville, stop," Severus said, but it sounded too whiny to be a command. Severus didn't know his voice could do that, and was horrified.

"Severus, listen to me: we need to talk, and it will be less awkward if we have tea. Besides, it'll give you something to throw if you need to."

"I don't have anything more to say to you."

"But I have things you need to hear, so...shut up and listen."

Neville put the kettle on and sat down at the table.

"I've done unforgivable things," Severus said, hopefully preempting whatever Neville wanted to say.

Neville rolled his eyes. "And you're not a nice man, and you have trust issues. Yes, Severus, we all know."

"'Unforgivable,' Longbottom. It has a very particular meaning."

"Yes, well, I'm not a literalist."

Severus sat down. "I thought you already knew. I...I wouldn't have thrown it out like that."

"You thought I already knew," Neville repeated, and Severus nodded. "If I knew, and I was spending time with you, then you must have thought that I didn't blame you at all, or else I'd forgiven you. So why does it surprise you that I'm here now?"

Severus hesitated before he spoke. "Because if my first assumption was wrong, then all of my assumptions were suspect."

Neville nodded. "I shouldn't have let you get away yesterday, but I was a bit stunned. I'm sorry for that, Sev. I know how you can get-I should have stopped you."

"Don't," Severus said, suddenly angry. "Don't apologize to me."

Neville sighed, a long-suffering sigh. "So, you've done unforgivable things, you're not a nice man, you have trust issues, _and_ you're a touchy git. I get it, Sev, but I don't think you do. You're impossible when you're in this state, you know." He sighed again. "I _wasn't_ apologizing; I'm just sorry that I have to deal with you when you're like this."

Severus had just been out-maneuvered by Neville Longbottom. He was speechless. Had Neville just called him _Sev_? There was too much to process. He took a sip of his tea.

Neville sipped his own tea, content to let the silence stretch.

Severus was almost out of tea when Neville finally spoke again. "I meant to tell you yesterday that I have some pretty exciting news. I was trying to save it for the last moment, but..."

"But I ruined that plan?"

"Yes, as is your way. Anyway, Professor Sprout told me the other day that Professor Randall has already told her that he's leaving at the end of the year. Hogwarts will need another Herbology professor, and Professor Sprout thinks I can do it."

"You-you're eighteen and not fully qualified."

Neville smiled fondly. "I'll be nineteen, and Professor Sprout says that I can teach provisionally for a few years while I finish the requirements. Anyway, I asked her specifically if I would have to live at Hogwarts, and she said no. I can keep my flat in Hogsmeade."

Severus looked at Neville. He could think of no reason the young man should care if he lived at Hogwarts or in Hogsmeade. Severus, of course, could never dream of living inside the castle again. But he wouldn't mind living nearby.

He tried to think of something to say, but couldn't. He thought about everything that had happened since he woke up in the Shrieking Shack. He remembered Neville kissing him, holding his hand. Talking to him; forgiving him; rubbing his back as he cried. And now, considering Severus's preferences when deciding his own future.

Severus had thought that you couldn't come back from some things; he'd thought he was broken. But he'd thought Harry was broken, too, and now Harry and Ginevra had taken up with each other again.

Maybe...maybe.

He put his cup down on the table and took his courage in both hands. He stood up slowly. Neville stayed seated, but kept his eyes on him.

Severus walked over to Neville, slowly, slowly, his heart pounding the whole way. He knelt down, next to Neville, who looked back at him cautiously.

He wanted to say something, but he could only focus on the one goal. He leaned in, slowly, slowly, watching carefully the whole time, and kissed Neville.

Neville closed his eyes and kissed him back.

* * *

 **So I've already written another short piece in this universe, and I'll post it soon-it's called "Firstborn." Do you see what I did there? It's a theme, but a subtle one.**

 **1\. Second Time Around**  
 **2\. Third Time's a Charm**  
 **3\. Firstborn**

 **As a permutation, it's easy, it's just (123). (If you get that, HOLLA!)**

 **Unfortunately, I can't think of a word or phrase starting with the word "Fourth," except for "Fourth of July," and I have it on good authority that Brits don't** ** _celebrate_** **that. So "Firstborn" will probably be the last in the series. That's okay-it's my "19 years later," anyway. BTW-I always liked the epilogue, so, there you go. Exception to every rule and all.**

 **Anyway, if you've liked any part of this story, it's really down to Murph, who insisted that I write it, even when I was like, "GROAN, but 'Snape living' has been DONE, and DONE WELL." She still had faith that I could put a different spin on it. There were many phone calls and many conversations that made this story into what it is.**

 **TO MURPH: We have dragged each other from fandom to fandom-I'm so glad I managed to drag you into Harry Potter. I wish I didn't have to write a friggin' novel to do it-and I can't decide if that makes you or me the more stubborn one-but I'm pretty sure it's you.**

 **TO THE REST OF THE WORLD: Murph and I were both born and raised-and currently reside-in Podunkville, TX, so I apologize for any regionalisms that may have crept into this fic. I take solace in the fact that I once got course evaluations from a class I taught, and one student (** ** _probably_** **not a local) had commented, "She sometimes speaks in a British accent and it's hard to understand her." I literally asked everyone in my office, "Do I sound British?" They all assured me, no, I sound Texan. ALSO, Murph once moved up north, to Yankeetown, USA, and a lot of people up there thought that she was British. Because of her accent. It is, evidently, a common mistake.**

 **In conclusion, finding someone to Brit-pick this** ** _probably_** **would have been redundant...at least to certain people, living in North America, on a certain side of the Mason-Dixon Line. Brits? You may be able to tell the difference. (I did giggle when I wrote about the "bag of crisps." I'm such a poser.)**


End file.
